Last One Standing
by SimplyCecelia
Summary: Ten guests are invited to a private island with the promise of attending a dinner party. But things take a turn for the worst when they start dying. One by one.  Inspired and based off of 'And Then There Were None by Agatha Christie.
1. Chapter 1

_Before I get started I would like to clarify that this story does not focus on one specific pairing or one specific couple. It is a fic centered around Blaine, Kurt, Santana, Brittany, Puck, Quinn, Mike, Tina, Rachel, and Finn. The pairings I use are Klaine, Brittana, Tike, and Finchel. My reasons for choosing each character are my own and really not important to the story at all. These are just the characters I felt most comfortable writing about._

**_Important things:_**_ This story is set in the late 1920's. It is based off the book 'And Then There Were None' by Agatha Christie. I recommend reading it if you haven't, it's really very good._

**_Warnings: _**_Character death. This is a murder mystery so there will be a lot of character death. I mean, **tons** of character death. If you're not interested in that then I suggest you leave right now. If you're okay with that and enjoy mystery, suspense and darker fics then I hope you enjoy it._

* * *

><p>Kurt Hummel sat at his kitchen table, sipping quietly at his usual morning coffee. Blaine walked in with a smile, coffee in one hand and mail in the other. Kurt smiled as Blaine placed a quick kiss to his cheek before sitting in a chair across the table.<p>

Blaine held the morning's newspaper in his hand, while setting the rest of the mail on the table.

Kurt watched as his boyfriend of eleven years unfolded the newspaper and began reading. Reaching forward, he grabbed the few letters that had arrived that morning.

His eyes immediately fell upon a striking black envelope with gold trim. He placed the rest of the letters back on the table, leaving only the black and gold letter in his hand. Eyeing it curiously, he read the curly script on the front of the envelope. It was exactly like every other letter he'd ever received apart from the colour and the fact that there was no return address.

Kurt flipped the envelope over and opened it carefully. He pulled out two small rectangles of paper, and one bigger, folded paper. He unfolded the bigger paper and began reading the beautifully curly handwriting.

_Dear Kurt,_

_Considering it has been almost ten years since we've seen each other, I think it's time we caught up. I'm having a dinner party at my home on Indian Island this Friday, August 14__th. __I have included two train tickets for you and Blaine along with this letter. I have also arranged for a boat to take you from the harbour to the island. The boat will be leaving at four fifteen that afternoon. It would be best if you pack a bag and stay the night, as the dinner party probably won't end until around eleven and the boats don't sail at night._

_I hope you can make it._

_Sincerely,_

_Mercedes Jones _

Kurt eyed the name happily, recognising it immediately as her old friend. They hadn't seen each other since they moved to different cities when they were nineteen, and he smiled broadly as he thought about getting to see his long lost best friend.

He flipped the letter over, discovering directions to the harbour from the train station along with the name of the sailor he would be looking for. He flipped the letter over again and reread the invitation with a smile.

"Mercedes wants us over for a dinner party," Kurt said casually, picking up the train tickets that came with the letter.

"Does she? When?" Blaine asked, turning the page of his newspaper.

"On the fourteenth." Kurt replied, pushing the letter to Blaine so he could read it.

"The fourteenth? Well, that's tonight." Blaine said, picking up the letter and reading it quickly.

"Is it?" Kurt asked, genuinely shocked. "The letter must have gotten lost. Or the mail service must be moving slowly," Kurt reasoned.

"I'll say," Blaine replied with a chuckle. "Well that's nice of her to invite us. Should we go?" Blaine asked, inspecting the train tickets.

"I think we should,"

"Well, let's get packing then," Blaine said happily, sharing a smile with Kurt. "The train leaves in two hours."

Kurt and Blaine walked to their bedroom, filling their suitcases with clothes and everything they would need for their upcoming weekend on Indian Island.

* * *

><p>Noah Puckerman was laying face first on his couch, feeling groggy and tired from the previous night's events. He knew he had one drink to many, but he really didn't care anymore. Pushing himself up, he blinked to adjust to the bright sunlight pouring into his messy living room. He stretched his arms above his head and attempted to work the kinks out of his neck from his awkward sleeping position.<p>

He heard the unmistakeable sounds of letters being pushed through the mail slot of his front door and he groaned loudly. Nothing like another bill he won't be able to pay to start the day off.

Noah walked slowly to the kitchen, grabbing a cup from the cupboard and filling it with cold water. He filled his mouth with the liquid and swished it around, attempting to get the taste of alcohol off his tongue. Spitting the water into the sink, he ran his tongue along his teeth. He grimaced when his tongue found the familiar burning taste of alcohol and the unfamiliar taste of the girl he had met at the bar.

Slamming the glass onto the counter, he walked to the front door and picked up his mail. Just as he expected, there was a large pile of bills, all seeming to have the same red 'final notice' stamp. He picked up the pile angrily and threw them at the wall.

He was just about to start kicking every envelope that landed near him when a suspicious black envelope landed just by his foot. Still scowling with anger, he grabbed the envelope forcefully. He turned it over and ripped it open forcifully, pulling out a folded piece of paper. He watched as a smaller piece of paper fell out and landed on the floor.

Slumping back against the wall, he let himself slide down until he was sitting comfortably. He grabbed the smaller piece of paper and held it behind the other as he read.

_Dear Mr Puckerman,_

_I hear from a friend of mine, you are quite the craftsman. My wife and I could really use a new shed, and I feel you would be the perfect person for the job. We will pay you greatly; money is no issue to us. If it isn't too much of bother, please join my wife and me at our dinner party this Friday the 14__th__ at Indian Island. You can enjoy a nice meal while we further discuss plans for the shed and we can negotiate your payment. We hope to see you there._

_Sincerely,_

_Mr U. N. Owen_

Noah Puckerman eyed the invitation curiously, putting it the side as he inspected the train ticket. He didn't know who this person was, but obviously the person knew Noah was a skilled woodsman. Noah wasn't usually a conceited person, but he knew for a fact he could build a damn good shed.

He considered the offer as he looked around at his messy apartment. He glared at his unpaid bills and decided he could use the money. He pushed himself off the floor and walked to his bedroom to begin packing.

* * *

><p>Mike Chang sat with his fiancé, Tina, in their private compartment on the train. They had only gotten their mysterious invitation that morning, but they were still smiling grandly from the excitement. Tina thought it was a little strange that Mike's cousin would invite them to a dinner party on such short notice. But Mike had convinced her that the mail had most likely just arrived late.<p>

They chatted excitedly, exchanging ideas of what the manor might look like and how big the island might be. They were both completely fascinated with the idea of a private island, but Mike was mostly excited to see his cousin. The two hadn't spoken in years and were quite distant, but when they were young they had been very close friends.

"Did you know your cousin owned an island?" Tina asked, voice brimming with awe.

"No, I had no clue! But I did hear my dad saying she married a wealthy man."

Tina nodded her understanding, and turned to look out the window. The train sped along the tracks, the windows open to a perfect view of the ocean. Tina watched the wave's splash on the rocky shore only feet away from the train. She sighed happily, and turned to see Mike smiling as well. Tina loved the ocean, but since moving to the city she hadn't gotten to be around it as much as she would've liked.

She didn't mind, of course. She loved living with Mike, and she loved her life in the city. She could live with only seeing the ocean on special occasions if it meant she would get to spend every moment of her life with the man she loved.

* * *

><p>Finn Hudson sat with his wife Rachel, only half listening to her talk about the next show she was going to be starring in. Finn nodded and smiled, apparently giving Rachel permission to list off every song she would be singing in the show, and the meaning behind the lyrics. Finn just continued smiling as his thoughts went back to the upcoming dinner party.<p>

Rachel hadn't thought much of it. She was always invited to various fancy parties because of her work on the Broadway stage. She excused the abruptness of their invitation to the poor workmen ship of the mailmen in her neighbourhood. Rachel was actually quite looking forward to getting away from the busy, crowded cities. Spending the weekend on a private island was just the thing she needed to relax.

Finn, on the other hand, was completely nervous. He never knew how to act at these things, and he always managed to make a fool of himself somehow. He really was not looking forward to this party at all.

But Rachel seemed so sure and excited, so Finn couldn't help but push back all of his fear for her.

The train slowly pulled into the station, and Rachel giggled excitedly. Finn smiled at his wife and grabbed their luggage from the rack above them. Rachel led the way off the train, Finn following behind closely.

Rachel passed a nice looking tall man, with brown hair, and striking crystal blue eyes. The man motioned for Rachel to take the steps down first, and she smiled at him gratefully. As she stepped down she noticed the man was holding the hand of another man. She stood away from the door to wait for Finn, and felt her heart go out to the two men. There were very few people in the world that were as accepting as she was. She caught a few people sneering as the gay couple stepped off the train, and Rachel thought of her fathers.

The men walked passed Rachel, and the blue eyed man caught her eye. She smiled sympathetically, and was given a sad smile in return. She heard someone yell something rude at the couple and Rachel glared in the direction it had come from. The amount of hate in the world made her blood run cold. The two men walked quickly out of the train station, glaring, even as the blue eyed man looked close to tears.

Rachel thought of her dads, and the hate inside of her only grew stronger.

"Hey, are you alright?" Finn asked, approaching cautiously with their luggage in his hands.

"I'm fine," Rachel snapped quickly. "Just... these people make me so angry. There is nothing wrong with a man that loves another man."

Finn nodded in understanding, shifting the luggage around so he could take his wife's hand. Rachel had told Finn everything about her life and her opinions on the world. He used to think that gay people were... different, but Rachel made him see things from her point of view. She always seemed to be able to change Finn's mind. It was a little annoying sometimes, but it was just another one of those things he's grown to accept and love about Rachel.

* * *

><p>Quinn Fabray walked with her held high and suitcase gripped tightly in hand. She exited the train station and looked up and down the street. Reading the signs, she turned left, down the street towards the harbour.<p>

She pulled the folded invitation out of her pocket and read it again quickly. She didn't know much about the island, but the man who owned it was a highly respected business man. Quinn had heard a lot of the man from newspapers, and magazines, and from the people at her work.

Quinn was giddy with excitement as she thought about the upcoming party, but she did her best to not let it show. She knew that to be taken seriously she needed to be calm and level headed. She would never be taken seriously if she was smiling like a crazy person and hopping up and down.

Fighting back another smile, she walked on with dignity and grace. Her father would be so proud, if had he paid any attention to her, that is. Quinn missed him dearly, but she was determined to do her job to the best of her ability. Maybe one day, if she got far enough in her career, her father would look at her again.

Quinn walked onto the docks of the harbour, and checked the numbers on the boats. She found boat number 34 and tapped a sailor on the shoulder.

"Excuse me, are you Mr... Merdian?" Quinn asked, double checking the name on her invitation.

The man turned to face Quinn, and smiled. He had grey hair and his face was covered in wrinkles. He was missing a tooth, and he didn't look like the strongest man around, but he had bright eyes, and an essence of friendliness. He was the type of person that you couldn't help but feel comfortable around.

"Yes, yes I am. Are you part of the group headin' over to Indian Island?" the man asked.

Quinn nodded in reply, failing to hide her excited smile but she was relieved when the sailor just smiled back at her.

"Well, just go on in. I'll take your bag. We'll be leavin' in a few minutes."

Quinn handed the sailor her suit case, taking his hand to steady herself as she climbed onto the boat. It was a good sized boat, although not as big as the boats Quinn was used to. But it was big enough to hold herself, the sailor, and the nine other people heading to Indian Island.

She looked over the other guests, and sat in an empty seat next to a blonde woman that was talking quietly with a mean looking brunette woman.

Pulling a book from her handbag, she started reading, blocking out the whispered conversations around her.

* * *

><p>There was a loud pop, followed by a soft humming noise, and Brittany Pierce looked around curiously. The boat pushed away from the shore, causing the blonde woman to giggle excitedly.<p>

"I can't believe I won this vacation! I don't even remember entering the contest!" Brittany whispered into Santana's ear. She knew she could've talked louder, but everyone around her was being so quiet and she really didn't want to be the one to disrupt the environment.

"Thanks for bringing me along," Santana said, smiling for the first time all day.

"Of course! There's no one else I would rather share this with," Brittany reached out and touched Santana's hand lightly, but pulled away at the look Santana gave her.

Brittany sat back on the bench, leaning against the wall of the boat behind her. She knew Santana didn't want people to know about them, and she agreed to keep their love a secret, but it was hard. Especially with all of the loving couples around her.

She looked to her left and took in the happy Asian couple sitting on the bench. The woman was looking out to the ocean, with hearts in her eyes. Her husband was holding her hand, smiling at her love filled expression. Brittany smiled, as the couple shared a quick kiss, before gazing back out at the water.

She heard a small sniffle, and turned to face the two men sitting on the bench across from her. The paler of the two was wiping his nose with a tissue. His blue eyes were red around the edges, and Brittany could tell he had been crying. She watched as the men wrapped their arms around each other in a hug. The couple pulled apart and the darker haired man whispered something that caused the blue eyed man to smile softly.

Brittany realized that the two men were in the same situation she was in with Santana, except they were brave enough to be together in public.

Santana turned to face Brittany and saw her smiling sadly. She followed Brittany's gaze toward the two men, and knew in an instant what she was thinking. Santana and Brittany loved each other, but Santana couldn't handle the hate in the world. She wanted to be able to hold Brittany's hand without getting sneered at. She admired the two men for being brave enough to be public about their relationship, but she could tell they were hurting.

Santana loved Brittany. She didn't want to get hurt, but more importantly, she didn't want Brittany to get hurt either. She hated seeing Brittany cry, or in any form of pain. If keeping their relationship secret would keep them both safe from hate then so be it.

A quiet, excited cry brought everyone's attention to the scene on the horizon, in front of the boat.

Brittany turned and smiled as they grew closer and closer to a small island.

"Should only be another twenty minutes," the sailor announced, causing the group to break out into excited whispers.

* * *

><p>The boat slowly pulled up to the dock of Indian island. The sailor leaned across the space between the boat and the dock to tie the boat tightly to one of the wooden posts. He grabbed a wooden plank, extending it out to the dock, creating a small bridge for the passengers to climb across.<p>

Noah Puckerman was the first to stand, grabbing his bag from the sailor, and crossing the bridge onto the rickety, wooden dock.

The nine other guests followed suit, stepping onto the dock and getting their first good looks at Indian Island.

The island was quite large for being a privately owned piece of land. There was a small forest of trees to the left of the mansion, and a large, sandy beach in front of the mansion.

The old Victorian style mansion was enormous, to say the least. It was two floors high with large windows stretching across the length of the top floor. A large window was visible from where the guests stood; the signs of an elaborate dining room visible from beyond it. The mansion would've been eerie looking had it not been surrounded by such an amazing ocean view.

Noah Puckerman gazed up at the impressive structure and walked up the rickety dock. He walked through the grassy lawn toward the mansion, when he noticed a small folded paper taped to the dark wooden door. He pulled the note off of the door and unfolded it.

_Dear guests,_

_I am sorry to inform you that I will not be in your presence until nine thirty this evening. We needed to pick up a few things from the market. Please feel free to make yourself at home._

Noah read the note again curiously, turning around to face the small crowd standing behind him.

"It says they won't be home until nine thirty, but we should make ourselves at home." Noah informed the other guests.

The crowd began murmuring to themselves and their partners, staring up at the mansion curiously curiously.

The boat's motor started up in the distance, and everyone turned to watch as the sailor waved them a happy goodbye. The boat became smaller and smaller as it retreated into the distance, back toward the main land.

The ten guests were alone on the island.

Noah passed the note along so the other guests could read it before turning back to the door and opening it. The door opened slowly with an eerie creak to reveal the home.

The mansion was lavishly decorated and seemed even bigger on the inside, with high ceilings and a large, glittering chandelier. The sitting room was to the right of the entrance, with comfortable looking couches, a large wooden coffee table, and matching side tables. There was a liquor cabinet against the wall, surrounded by tall bookshelves and other miscellaneous cabinets.

To the left of the door was the dining room the guests saw earlier through the windows. A large, mahogany table stretched the length of the room. There was a decorative art piece in the center of the table of ten little sailor boys, standing in a circle. There were four chairs on each side of the table, with a single chair on each end.

The group piled into the front hall, standing in front of a large staircase that led to the second floor. There was a hallway next to the stairs that led toward the back of the house.

"So what do we do?" Noah asked the group at large.

"Maybe... we should take our bags to our rooms?" asked a tall Asian man.

There was a murmur of agreement from the group.

"But how do we know which is ours?" asked a short, beautiful woman with brown hair.

"Maybe we should just pick one. I mean, does it really matter? All guest rooms are the same right?" Noah said, shrugging his shoulders.

The group hesitantly agreed as they tentatively walking up the stairs to pick out their bedrooms.

* * *

><p>Then ten guests sat around the dining room table, making small talk and learning one another's names. Noah had been the first person to get a drink, but now everyone was sipping at a glass of wine. The time passed slowly, though the grandfather clock in the corner was glanced at every ten seconds.<p>

The clock rang out nine times, and the group felt their anxiety grow. Only half an hour till the owners of the house were to show up. Some people found it curious that they were having a dinner party so late at night. Others wondered who was going to cook, and how late they would be eating since no one was there to make anything.

Noah Puckerman was hitting on Quinn Fabray to no avail, while Mike and Tina Chang gushed about their upcoming wedding to an annoyed looking Rachel Hudson. Finn sipped his drink quietly, watching his wife grow more and more annoyed as the Asian couple kept interrupting the brunette with their excited chatter. Santana Lopez was talking in hushed tones to Kurt Hummel while Blaine Anderson talked with Brittany Pierce. He laughed as the blonde said something outrageous, but he never once corrected her or put her down for being wrong about a certain fact.

The clock read nine thirty and slowly the chatter faded away, leaving behind a strained silence.

"Are these people ever going to show up?" Noah asked impatiently, throwing back the last of his drink.

"I'm sure they'll be here soon," Blaine stated reasonably.

"No one asked you, fag," Noah retorted, glaring at where Blaine's hand was linked with Kurt's.

Rachel glared at the man, feeling angry and protective. The rest of the group watched on warily. Most of the group had never seen a homosexual couple and they were a bit hesitant around the two men.

Blaine glared at Noah and squeezed Kurt's hand protectively. Kurt kept his head down, eyes focused on his lap as he silently wished everyone would stop staring at him.

Noah glowered at the pair once more before standing and refilling his glass. He sat back in his seat, setting his glass in front of him.

Rachel made eye contact with Kurt, giving him an understanding look, and he smiled sadly in return.

"I hope these people get here soon, that way I won't have to sit here with a couple of fags," Noah muttered angrily, more to himself than anyone.

Blaine was fuming, as he glared at the wall in front of him. Kurt was ignoring the man's very existence, and Rachel was clearing her throat, sorting her words in her head and preparing to make a speech.

But before anyone could do anything, Noah Puckerman took a long drink from his glass. His eyes widened as he suddenly began coughing and dropped his half full glass onto the table. He stood, one hand cupped in front of his mouth as he coughed, the other gripping the table for balance.

The group was horrified, unsure of what to do, as Santana stood and patted the man's back, thinking he was choking.

Noah fell to the floor with a loud thud, his eyes falling closed. The group watched fearfully as Noah twitched a little before he stopped moving completely.

**And then there were nine.**

* * *

><p><em>Reviews are greatly appreciated, as I love would love to hear your thoughts and opinions on the story as it progresses. Also, you should guess who the killer is. I would <span>love<span> to hear what you think. (and I want to make sure I didn't make it too obvious lol)_


	2. Chapter 2

The nine guests sat in the lavish sitting room, shaken to the core by the events they had just seen. After everyone had calmed down a bit, the men had grouped together to carry Noah Puckerman's corpse to his room, lying him on his bed. No one knew what to do, but they agreed that putting the body somewhere they wouldn't see it was a good idea.

Tina was holding a cup of tea that Blaine had made her, claiming it would calm her fretfulness. But the woman was still a mess, even with the now cold drink. She was shaking from head to toe, her eyes were red, and her cheeks were stained with tears.

Brittany sat on Tina's left, patting her back soothingly even as Brittany herself was shaking from head to toe. Rachel was to Tina's right, with Quinn sitting beside her. The small couch was a little cramped with the four of them but they didn't mind sitting so closely.

Blaine, Mike, and Finn stood on the other side of the room, attempting to figure out what had just happened.

"He didn't choke, he was poisoned. You could tell by the way his eyes dilated. Plus his drink smelt... off." Mike reasoned, attempting to piece their puzzle together.

"Oh? And how would you know this?" Finn asked accusingly. Blaine narrowed his eyes at Mike as he waited for an answer.

Mike glared at the man but he answered anyways. "I'm a doctor, I know this stuff."

Finn relaxed a bit, but he was still apprehensive around Mike. He was apprehensive around everyone.

While the other guests were waiting nervously in the sitting room, Kurt and Santana were searching the house for a phone, or anything that could help them get home. They walked down the hall by the stairs, stopping at the small decorative table against the wall in the hallway. There was a dusty black phone upon the wooden table.

Kurt picked up the receiver and pressed it to his ear. He was greeted with a heart sinking silence, instead of the dial tone he was praying for. He glanced to Santana and gave her a scared look.

Santana took the phone from his ear, hung it up and tried again.

"Shit," The Latina mumbled under her breath. She hung the phone up forcefully, turning on her heel and leading the way to the kitchen.

Kurt followed, wrapping his arms around his middle as he shivered with fear.

They entered the dark kitchen, flipping on the light switch and walking over to the phone that hung on the wall. Santana picked up the receiver and cried out with frustration when it was dead.

"Do you think there'd be any phone's upstairs?" Kurt asked, leaning against the kitchen counters.

"It's worth a shot," Santana replied, walking out of the kitchen and down the hall toward the base of the stair case.

Kurt followed slowly, looking toward the back door at the end of the hall. He raised an eyebrow as he saw a door that he hadn't noticed before.

"Hey, Santana, look at this," Kurt called, walking toward the door. The handle had a thin layer of dust and the door was the same colour as the walls around it.

Santana walked back to join Kurt as they stared quizzically at the disguised door. They shared a quick look before Kurt stretched out his hand to make contact with the cold metal doorknob. He took a calming breath as he turned the handle and pushed the door open.

An eerie creak filled the silence between the two as the door slowly swung open to reveal a dark room. Kurt stood to the side, allowing Santana to take the lead, following the woman in to the abandoned space.

There were old couches, and chairs lining the walls. Boxes and other broken furniture were piled in the corners. Stacks of books and paintings littered the floor.

"Well..." Santana said, her voice swallowed up by the cluttered room.

"I guess it's safe to say our hosts won't be showing up," Kurt stated, staring into the room frightfully.

"I think it's safe to say our hosts aren't even real," Santana muttered.

Kurt took a deep breath, grabbing Santana by the forearm and pulling her gently to the door. "Come on; let's go check up stairs,"

The two walked out of the room, closing it carefully behind them. They walked up the stairs, searching every room and closet. They find two other phones, both dead and broken. Finally they decided their search was over and decided to rejoin the other guests.

Kurt and Santana re-entered the room, both noticeably shaken and looking more frightful than before.

"The phones don't work." Santana said to the room at large.

"We looked all over the house." Kurt said quietly. He walked to stand next to Blaine, who wrapped his arm around Kurt's shoulders. If anyone had a problem with the two men before, they didn't care about it now. They had more important things to worry about.

"Y-you mean we're trapped here?" Tina shouted frantically.

A silence fell upon the group, filled only by Tina's sobs. Brittany patted her shoulder, standing to find more tissues for the crying woman.

She walked to the cabinets on the wall, opening every drawer and every cabinet door in her search. She was stopped suddenly by a mysterious white record album. It was the only album in the cabinet that wasn't covered in dust. She pulled it out and read the two words written in black ink across the front of the album.

_Play me._

She cocked her head to the side curiously and turned to face the group. All eyes were on her as she pulled out the black vinyl record. She handed the cover to Mike as she walked to the record player in the corner.

Mike gasped lightly as he read the words, showing it to the other men around him.

Brittany set the needle in place and started the machine before returning to her seat next to Tina. The silence was deafening, as everyone waited in anticipation for whatever was going to happen.

_"Hello, guests. Welcome to Indian Island."_

A dark, mysterious voice filled the room, eliciting a small whimper from Tina.

_"I have brought the ten of us here to play a little game. If the game has gone as planned so far, there should only be nine of us left."_

The group looked around fearfully, as the voice talked on.

_"The game is quite simple, really. There are a few rules that you must follow to make it to the end. But... I don't think I should tell you them. If you knew the rules, you'd probably have a better chance of surviving. And where would the fun in that be?"_

The dark voice chuckled evilly, sending shivers down the group's spines.

_"The game has already begun, and I'm sorry to say you have no choice but to play. I hope you have fun. I sure will. _

_And if you're wondering who I am, just look around. I could be sitting right next to you._

_Good luck."_

The record stopped suddenly and everyone glanced to those sitting next to them. They shared worried and suspicious looks with their neighbours.

According to the voice, the killer was in the room.

And they were ready to play.

Tina cried out suddenly, throwing her hands up frantically and sending her tea flying everywhere.

Rachel, Quinn, and Brittany got splashed by the liquid, scowling to the woman before their fear took over again.

"...What should we do?" Brittany asked timidly.

The group shared an uneasy look, laced with suspicion and fear. No one wanted to speak up, but the group needed a leader, so Finn cleared his throat to get everyone's attention.

"I think we should go to bed. If we lock our doors, then the killer won't be able to get in, right?" Finn announced, looking nervous.

The group nodded their agreement. Hearing someone actually say there was a killer in the house made the whole thing seem even more real, and that terrified the guests more than anything. They didn't know who was going to be killed next. But one of them would be.

Tina stood and linked her arm with Mike's, following him into the kitchen to get a fresh cup of tea before bed. Tina whispered to Mike about how she hoped they could still have their wedding the next month.

Rachel, who was walking with Finn right behind Tina, glared disbelievingly at the back of Tina's head. She couldn't believe how insufferable the woman was being, thinking of a wedding at a time like this. Tina had been intolerable all night, more so when she wouldn't stop crying. Rachel rolled her eyes, grabbing Finn's hand and following him up the stairs to their bedroom.

Kurt and Blaine were the last to go upstairs, stopping to talk worriedly before taking the stairs. Kurt turned to look to the dining room once more, when he noticed something a little strange.

He grabbed Blaine's hand and dragged him toward the table.

"Kurt, where are we going?" Blaine asked.

"Look," Kurt whispered, pointing to the sailor boy figurines on the table. Blaine looked at the art piece curiously, not sure what he should be seeing.

Kurt pointed out an empty space between two little sailor boys and Blaine gasped as he counted the figurines.

There were ten when they arrived at the mansion.

But now there was only nine.

* * *

><p>The sun rose early the next morning, sending a warm glow over Indian Island. A bright sun beam tore through the small space in the curtains of Mike Chang's bedroom window. The beam landed across Mike's eyes, causing him to stir from his comfortable position. He had his arms wrapped around Tina's waist and was holding her tight to his chest.<p>

Mike yawned quietly as he unwound his arms from his fiancé and carefully slipped out of bed. He blinked blearily as he swayed on his feet tiredly. He stretched his arms over his head, breathing a contented sigh as his muscles began waking up with the rest of his body.

Walking over to his suitcase, Mike pulled out a ratty old pair of shorts, along with an old t-shirt. He pulled the shirt over his bare chest and arms before changing out of his pyjama pants and into the shorts. He ran his hands through his hair to push it back and out of his eyes.

Yawning once more, Mike grabbed a pair of socks from his bag, along with his dirty, worn down running shoes. He sat down carefully on the edge of the bed, making sure to stay as quiet as possible so as to not wake Tina. He slipped on the socks and shoes and tied them up tightly.

Mike turned back to smile at Tina's peaceful sleeping figure. He kissed his palm gently and pressed it to the pile of blankets Mike assumed was Tina's leg. He patted his fiancé's leg gently in goodbye, before turning and walking out the bedroom door.

Mike walked down the stairs, cringing when they creaked too loudly. He walked into the kitchen, grabbing a glass from the cupboard and filling it with cold water. He quickly downed the entire glass before setting it in the sink and walking back out into the hall toward the back door.

The back door swung open with a creak as Mike stepped out into the warm summer sun. He smiled as he tilted his head back and closed his eyes. He took a deep breath, letting the sun warm his face as he filled his lungs with the salty sea air. He stretched his legs out for a minute before he took off.

Mike ran with determination, mapping out the island in his head. He headed out toward the edge of the island from the back door, turning left and ran along the edge. He ran through the small forest of trees, skilfully dodging everything in his path as he ran. He continued to run for a few moments when he found himself near the docks.

He ran down the rickety wooden dock, stopping at the edge and breathing heavily. Once his heart rate slowed he turned and ran back up the dock. He ran along the front edge of the island, and onto the sandy beach that lay far from the front of the mansion.

Mike slowed his pace in the sand, smiling as he felt his muscles work together as if he was one well built machine. He ran around the island for the better part of an hour, making a new path each time while still running in one giant circle.

Mike jogged toward the front door of the house, over the sloping green lawn and past the front porch. He slowed to a walk, breathing deeply and cooling his body off.

When he entered the mansion he saw the other three men sitting in the dining room as he walked toward the kitchen. He grabbed his cup from the sink and filled it with water, taking a quick drink before placing it back in the sink.

Brittany smiled at him from where she was buttering toast, and he smiled back, turning to smile at Santana and Quinn as well.

"Good morning Mike," Quinn said as she flipped over the pancake she was cooking. "Why are you up so early?"

"I like to run in the mornings. To stay in shape and all that," Mike replied, his heart rate finally slowing to a normal pace.

Quinn nodded in reply as she turned back to her cooking.

"Where's Tina? And Rachel?" Mike asked, looking around the kitchen.

"Tina's still asleep I think," Brittany answered, placing the finished toast on a small plate.

"Rachel's walking around outside," Santana said, nodding toward the window.

Mike turned and looked out to the back of the island where Rachel was walking along the edge of the island.

"I didn't see her while I was running," Mike said curiously.

"Well she left for her walk about half an hour ago," Santana replied, her eyebrow rising suspiciously.

"Maybe she was just walking where you couldn't see her?" Brittany asked, moving to wrap an arm around Santana's waist. Santana just smiled and leaned her head against her girlfriend's shoulder. The two had decided to be open with their relationship ever since the other night's events and no one really seemed all to surprised.

"Maybe... I just didn't notice her. I was pretty focused on the path ahead of me," Mike reasoned, shrugging his shoulders casually.

Quinn nodded slightly in agreement, even as she eyed Rachel suspiciously.

Mike felt his pulse quicken a bit as he felt worry and suspicion pool in the pit of his stomach.

"I'm... I'm going to go wake Tina," Mike said quietly, walking out of the kitchen quickly.

Santana shared a quick, apprehensive look with Quinn as an oblivious Brittany waved Mike goodbye.

Mike ran up the stairs, completely unaware of the concerned looks the other men shot him. He threw open the bedroom door, which he just realized he hadn't locked before he left. He mentally swore at himself as he realized he had left Tina completely defenceless while a murderer was on the loose.

His heart was beating wildly in his chest, and tears stung his eyes but he did his best to convince himself everything was okay.

Slowly, Mike entered the bedroom. He let out a small sigh as he saw the still figure of his fiancé sleeping in bed. As he walked closer he began to notice how her face lacked colour, and her body lacked even the slightest movements. Tina's chest was completely still and realization hit Mike like a freight train.

Tina wasn't breathing.

His footsteps echoed through the quiet room as he walked to Tina's side. He sat on the edge of the bed gently, holding his breath as he reached out his shaking hand. He whimpered as it came in contact with the cold skin of Tina's cheek.

Tears began to fall from Mike's eyes as he caressed Tina's icy skin.

"Tina..." Mike breathed out into the silence.

Tina didn't respond. Mike began to sob as he realized she couldn't respond. She would never be able to respond again.

Mike's sobs grew louder as he slid off the bed, landing in a depressed and pathetic pile on the floor. He leaned his head back and stared up at the ceiling.

After a moment, he turned back to face his lifeless other half. He cried harder as he dug Tina's hand out from the blankets. He held the cold, delicate hand in his as he kissed the back of her hand gently.

He heard footsteps make their way to the bedroom, but he didn't bother to look up. He didn't notice Brittany and Santana entering the room. He didn't notice as they gasped and Santana ran out to gather the others. He didn't notice Brittany walk over to wrap an arm around his shoulders.

All he saw was Tina. All he wanted was Tina. All he cared about was Tina.

Mike felt his world shake apart as the beautiful walls he had constructed for himself came crashing down. Colours began to grow dull, the sun was no longer as bright, and the air wasn't as fresh. Everything Mike knew was changing. Everything Mike loved was gone. He was blank.

Brittany led Mike downstairs, and sat him in a large arm chair in the sitting room. The rest of the guests gathered around him, sending him sympathetic looks.

Fear was rooted in each of the guest's stomachs, as they looked to each other suspiciously. One more victim had been claimed, and it was only a matter of time before the killer took another.

**And then there were eight.**

* * *

><p><em>Reviews are always appreciated. I would love to hear your guys thoughts on who the killer is and your opinions on the story so far. <em>


	3. Chapter 3

Mike Chang sat in one of the luxurious leather arm chairs in the sitting room, completely blank after crying over his lost love. The group sat around him, sharing nervous glances and attempting to calm their fears to help Mike.

Santana was eyeing Rachel closely, trying to decide if she should confront the shorter woman. In Santana's mind, all signs proved Rachel was the murderer.

Quinn watched them both carefully. She hadn't known the Latina for very long, but she knew Santana was the type to attack if she got angry. And Santana looked really angry.

Rachel looked distressed; standing behind Mike and looking down at him with a sympathetic expression on her face.

"I can't believe she's gone..." Mike muttered quietly, breaking the spell of silence that had fallen upon the room.

"Yeah, it's a shame..." Rachel added, patting Mike on the shoulder softly.

"Oh is it? You don't seem to upset. Of course, Tina did seem to bother _you_ the most." Santana stated, sitting back in her chair. She crossed her arms over her chest, flipping her long, dark hair over her shoulder. She obviously had a lot of experience arguing with people, and she looked ready to fight.

"What are you saying, Santana?" Rachel asked innocently.

"Oh nothing, all I'm saying is Tina seemed to annoy you, and everyone saw the way you reacted last night when Noah was being an ass. And look what happened to them." Santana said, her voice laced with venom.

"Are you accusing me of killing them?" Rachel shrieked disbelievingly. "You can't honestly think that, can you?"

"Well why not?" Santana bit back.

"I would never hurt a fly! Let alone another human being! And I would certainly never go so far as to kill someone!" Rachel yelled, looking hurt.

Santana stood and shot a glare towards the woman. "And how are we supposed to believe you? Lying isn't the hardest thing in the world, and you're an actress, aren't you? You're probably the best liar here! I'm just looking at the facts." Santana threw her hands up as she acted completely casual, though she still looked angry. She crossed her arms again and glared to Rachel, raising her eyebrow as she waited for a response.

Rachel huffed angrily. "Well... Well," Rachel stammered, attempting to form a sentence strong enough to stop everyone from suspecting her. "Why are you so concerned, Santana? For all we know, you're the murderer and you're just determined to cover it up by blaming me!"

"Enough!" Everyone jumped as Kurt's loud voice interrupted the women's bickering. Kurt looked on the verge of tears as he stood and faced the group bravely. His knees shook with nerves as he hated being the center of attention but he felt it was time someone stopped the arguing. "Can you two please just shut up? Yes, there's a killer in this room, but yelling is getting us nowhere."

Santana seemed to shrink in on herself, looking vaguely ashamed. She had grown attached to Kurt, and yelling like this did seem rather disrespectful; considering a man had just lost his wife. She lowered her head and decided to stare at her shoes.

Rachel just glared at the man, her anger taking over. She felt humiliated, and offended at being called out so bluntly. "I didn't do anything wrong! I was just defending myself. I don't have to take this," Rachel shouted, sending one last glare toward Santana before storming out of the sitting room.

Santana watched her leave disbelievingly, turning to Brittany and muttering something that sounded like 'insufferable'.

Kurt sat back in his chair next to Mike, letting out a sigh. Mike gave him a thankful look as another tear slipped down his cheek. Kurt grabbed Mike's hand and squeezed it lightly.

Blaine wrapped his arm around Kurt's shoulders as he sat on the arm of Kurt's chair. He kissed his boyfriend's forehead, silently congratulating Kurt on his braveness.

The environment slowly returned to its mournful state, everyone feeling more and more uneasy as they peered to the people sitting next to them.

* * *

><p>Rachel sat in one of the wooden chairs on the patio, sipping a glass of water. Finn walked out to talk to her, feeling apprehensive as she still looked really angry.<p>

"Rachel?" Finn asked quietly, sitting in the chair next to her.

"Yes, Finn?" Rachel replied shortly, not looking at him. She kept her eyes glued on the ocean in front of her. Her jaw looked tense, and her eyes were bright with unshed tears.

"Are you okay?" Finn asked, placing his hand on Rachel's gently.

"Yes, I'm just wonderful," Rachel snapped, pulling her hand away. "It's just so much fun being trapped on an island with a murderer out to get us. Oh, and now everyone thinks it me, so that just adds to the fun of it all." Rachel ranted, fisting her hands on the arms of her chair.

"Not everyone thinks it's you, Rachel," Finn said timidly.

"Do you?" Rachel asked suddenly, turning to face her husband for the first time since he arrived.

"What? Of course not," Finn said quickly.

Rachel stared at him for a moment, letting out a relieved sigh. She dropped her head to her hands, shaking her head.

"I just want to get out of here," Rachel muttered.

"I'll get us out of here," Finn whispered, placing a comforting hand on her back. "I promise."

Rachel turned to her husband, and smiled softly. She sat back in her chair and grabbed Finn's hand.

Together they sat on the wooden chairs, listening to the wind whistle through the trees and the waves crash against the shore.

* * *

><p>The sun was hanging low in the sky that evening, leaving a soft orange glow over the grounds of Indian island. The wind had died down, leaving just a soft breeze. Finn, Kurt, and Blaine were carrying fire wood into the house from the pile they had started earlier that day.<p>

They had tried to get Mike to help but he had refused to do anything since Tina died. He hadn't eaten anything all day. He hadn't even left the sitting room. He was uselessly blank, and the other guests were finding themselves a little annoyed with his behaviour. No one said anything though. They figured they would just give him the rest of the day to mourn.

Kurt placed the wood he was carrying by the fireplace in the sitting room, as the other men carried the rest of the wood up stairs to the bedrooms. A few bedrooms had fireplaces in them, and they decided to keep everything stocked full.

The guests didn't have much to do in the house, except sit around lazily, and attempt to guess who was trying to kill them. They decided that doing chores was the best way to keep busy, and keep their minds away from toxic thoughts that lead to misguided accusations.

The women spent the evening cooking dinner. Each girl kept their eyes on the other, making sure no one slipped anything into the food.

They served the food in the dining room. Everyone enjoyed the meal except for Mike, who had yet to leave the sitting room. The guests didn't have much to talk about over dinner. They didn't want to share their thoughts of who the murderer might be for fear of causing another outbreak like before. Every now and then someone would pitch an idea for how to get off the island, but every idea was deemed impossible.

They had searched the island from head to toe for an escape, but found nothing useful. The telephone line was down so they couldn't call the mainland for a boat and there was nothing on the island to use as a boat, let alone an actual boat. They were trapped, and they all knew they were going to die.

But as they ate dinner their chatter slowly turned to their lives back home. Slowly, the evening started to look like any other average evening. They didn't talk about the corpses that lay upstairs and they didn't talk about how any one of them could be the next corpse, left to rot away in their bedroom.

As the evening grew older and older, the guests grew tired. They cleared the table, leaving the dishes for the next morning. The guests retreated to their respective rooms, carefully locking their door behind them.

Kurt and Blaine were the last to leave, counting the figurines on the table quietly. They shared a worried look when they could only find eight little sailor boys in the circle.

Kurt felt a shiver run up his spine, trying his best not to think about the danger they were all obviously in. He turned and followed Blaine toward the stairs when he noticed Mike. He told Blaine to wait, as he turned and entered the sitting room. He sat in the chair next to the depressed man, and rested his hand upon Mike's shoulder gently.

"There's an extra guest room upstairs you can stay in," Kurt suggested carefully.

Mike shook his head, sitting further back in his chair. "I'll just sleep here," Mike whispered, voice broken from crying and lack of use.

"Are you sure?" Kurt pressed.

Mike nodded, staring at the wall.

Kurt stood from his chair and grabbed one of the decorative blankets from the couch. He walked back to Mike and placed the blanket over the other man.

Mike stared up to Kurt, slightly taken back by Kurt's kindness. He gave Kurt a small smile, before staring back at the wall and fading away again.

Kurt sighed, patting Mike on the back gently. He walked back toward the stairs and grabbed Blaine's hand.

"You are so nice," Blaine said quietly, kissing Kurt on the cheek.

"I feel bad for him, losing Tina like that. I couldn't imagine what kind of pain he must be experiencing." Kurt replied sadly, climbing the stairs to their room. "I think I would be acting just like Mike if I ever lost you."

Blaine gave Kurt a loving smile, grabbing his hand and pulling him to a gentle stop. Kurt turned, and stepped down onto the step Blaine was on. Blaine pulled him into a loving embrace and kissed him gently. "Don't worry love, I'm not going anywhere."

Kurt smiled at his boyfriend, leaning in for one more quick kiss, before turning and leading them into their bedroom.

* * *

><p>"Has anyone seen Rachel? I can't find her." Finn said, entering the dining room the next day at lunch.<p>

"She went out for a walk about an hour ago," Kurt answered, stirring sugar into her tea.

"She probably went to plan her next assault." Santana murmured to herself.

Kurt gave the woman a stern look, silently warning her not to start anything. Finn shot a glare at Santana, who just glared back.

"You know, I bet the reason you accuse Rachel so much is because you're hiding something. You probably just want everyone to believe someone else is the murderer so you can run around and kill us all off one by one," Finn said shortly.

"Enough, both of you," Kurt said sternly, eyes focused on the tea in his hands. Santana had opened her mouth to retort, but reluctantly closed it at Kurt's firm voice.

Finn huffed in annoyance, turning to leave the room. "I'm going to go look for Rachel," Finn said over his shoulder. He walked out of the dining room, glancing at Mike in the sitting room, before turning left and walking down the hall beside the stairs. He walked past the kitchen and out the back door, grabbing his jacket before walking into the chilly summer afternoon.

The wind was blowing harshly, causing the thicket of trees on the left of the island to sway. The waves were crashing hard against the rocky cliff forty feet in front of him. He knew Rachel liked to sit on the edge of the cliff to watch the ocean, but his wife was nowhere to be seen.

Finn looked left, and right, wondering which direction Rachel could've went. He decided to search around the trees, figuring that the reason he couldn't see her was because she was among them. He called out Rachel's name as he walked toward the small forest. He held his jacket closed around him as the wind blew harder.

The atmosphere outside quickly became eerie as a soft creaking sound hit Finn's ears. He spun around quickly in search of the source of the sound. The wind blew harder and the creaking synched up to the rhythm of the breeze. Finn spun around again, his eyes searching the trees frantically. He saw something black move behind a tree a few feet in front of him and he walked toward it slowly.

The black, silk looking fabric move back out from behind the tree, only to retreat back behind it quickly. Finn quickly recognized it as a dress, and he walked around the tree, his mind repeating the same words over and over again.

_Please don't be Rachel, please don't be Rachel, please don't be..._

"Rachel," Finn whispered, his eyes filling with tears.

Rachel had a long rope, tied around her neck and onto a thick tree branch. Her long silk dress moved with her as she swung lightly in the heavy summer wind. The weight of her body as it swayed caused the branch to creak ominously.

Finn fell to his knees, tears falling from his eyes as he watched the love of his life swing lifelessly by the neck.

**And then there were seven.**

* * *

><p><em>Fun fact: The deaths only get worse from this point on. And I mean <em>**worse.**_ You do not have to read it and I will not blame you if you stop reading. This story gets... pretty gruesome. Just a warning I guess._

_Another fun fact: I'm a bit of a whore for reviews lol but I hate asking for them because then I feel needy and annoying but I would love to hear your guys thoughts on this story so far. I love hearing from my readers :)_

_Oh, and tell me who you think the killer is! I want to make sure I didn't make it too obvious._


	4. Chapter 4

Mike sat alone in the sitting room; he hadn't moved from his spot in over 24 hours, and he didn't seem to care about anything around him.

The group was in the dining room, talking, eating, and planning their chores for that afternoon. They heard the back door open and slam close, though they didn't think much of it as steady footsteps slowly grew louder and louder.

Finn turned from the hall, walking up the stairs slowly, carrying a cold and lifeless Rachel in his arms.

"Did you find her?" Brittany asked, standing from her chair and walking into the front hall. She stared to the back of Finn's head and felt uneasy when he didn't even acknowledge her. She cocked her head curiously, turning back to share a concerned look with the group.

"Finn, what's going on?" Kurt asked, joining Brittany at the base of the stairs.

Finn just kept walking toward his bedroom, not paying any attention to the crowd gathering at the bottom of the stairs. Everyone except for Mike watched curiously as the man trudged up the stairs. He turned left, walking towards his room, and everyone gasped when they saw what was in Finn's arms.

They ran up the stairs after Finn, asking questions and feeling scared.

Finn wasn't listening. He pushed open his bedroom door and walked over to Rachel's side of their bed, laying her carefully on top of the blankets. He pushed her hair out of her eyes gently and wiped the tears off his face. He leaned in and placed a soft kiss upon her forehead.

The group stood at the door, watching as Finn walked around the room, gathering his things. He picked up his suitcase, and filled it with his miscellaneous items from the dresser. Pushing his way past the group, Finn made his way to the vacant rooms at the far end of the house. He opened one of the doors and dropped his stuff on the ground.

He walked back out into the hall, right past the concerned group, and down the stairs. He entered the sitting room, Mike turning to look at him quizzically as he threw open the liquor cabinet and poured himself a drink.

The group entered a moment later, Quinn, Santana and Brittany moving to sit on the couch by Mike's chair. Blaine and Kurt stood near Finn, waiting for answers.

Finn knocked back his drink quickly and poured more of the strong liquid into his glass. He walked over to an empty couch and sat down in a heap as he rubbed tiredly at his eyes.

The room was tense and silent, the only sound coming from Finn as he took a deep, shuddering breath.

"She was hanged. From a tree, out in the yard." Finn said quietly, fighting back tears.

Everyone gasped in shock, sharing scared and worried looks. Kurt sat next to Finn on the couch, Blaine sitting on the other side of him. Kurt placed a hand on Finn's shoulder, giving him a sympathetic look.

Finn breathed in deeply, closing his eyes and calming his raging fury and sadness. He sucked back the rest of his drink quickly and moved forward to slam his cup onto the coffee table loudly. He ran a hand through his hair and exhaled slowly.

"My new room needs fire wood; can you guys help me chop some up?" Finn asked, standing from his seat and staring at each of the men in turn.

Kurt and Blaine were taken back by his sudden readiness to work, but stood and followed after Finn as he walked out the front door.

Mike watched them leave, not bothering to leave his chair.

Quinn and Santana shared a disbelieving look. "Aren't you going to go help?" Quinn asked, her voice filled with spite.

Mike just shrugged lightly and turned back to stare at the wall.

Santana shook her head disbelievingly, standing and walking out of the room.

"Waste of space, that's what he is," Santana whispered to Quinn as they left to the dining room.

Brittany stood to follow, glancing over her shoulder at Mike in time to see a tear slide down his cheek. She walked over to the man and placed a hand on his shoulder, squeezing softly.

"You really miss her, don't you?" Brittany asked quietly.

Mike nodded, wiping his eyes on his sleeve. "She was my everything. I don't know what to do without her. So I just... do nothing. ...I just want her back," Mike admitted brokenly, as tears slid freely from his eyes.

Brittany wrapped her arms around Mike's shoulders and pulled him into a hug. "I'm sorry. I can't even begin to imagine what you must be going through."

Mike sobbed quietly against Brittany's neck, gripping one of his hands tightly on her arm.

Brittany pulled back after a minute as Mike calmed down. She smiled at the man, happy to see he looked a bit less empty. Brittany knew that hugs were the best way to cheer up a sad person.

"Would you like to go for a walk? I think a little sunshine could do you some good,"

Mike sniffed, wiping his eyes. He stared out the window at the windy scenery. The sky was cloudy, but he wouldn't mind a bit of fresh air. He nodded to the blonde woman, feeling his heart lighten a bit at having someone care for him.

Brittany smiled happily as she grabbed his arm and pulled him out of his chair.

Together they walked out the front door, and to the sandy beach. Brittany kept Mike's mind off his pain with stories of her life and her dreams of one day marrying Santana and living in a beautiful castle somewhere no one would hate them or call her stupid.

Mike smiled at the woman's optimism. He let his mind flow freely, filling it with the salty sea air and Brittany's rambling words. He felt lighter as he walked along the beach. He even felt a bit happy for a moment.

Brittany suddenly sat in the sand, taking off her shoes and pushing her toes into the sand. Mike smiled at the woman and decided to follow suit. He slipped off his shoes and placed them next to Brittany's. They sat in a peaceful silence as they listened to the whistling wind and rhythmic crashing of the waves against the shore.

"Are you feeling any better?" Brittany asked suddenly, turning to face Mike.

Mike had his eyes focused on the glittering blue ocean in front of him. He was smiling softly, but his eyes were still full of sadness.

"A little, I guess," Mike replied quietly. "Thank you. For... for caring, I guess,"

"It's the least I could do. You're a nice person, Mike. I know you're hurting, but that doesn't mean you don't deserve to be at least a little bit happy sometimes." Brittany said encouragingly.

Mike nodded as he chuckled slightly. He felt Brittany link her arm through his and lean her head against his shoulder. He smiled at the contact, leaning his head to rest against Brittany's. They sat in silence again, and Mike felt his heart lighten.

He didn't know if he would ever be able to live without Tina, and everyone on the island seemed to hate him, but at least Brittany cared for him.

When they returned to the house an hour later, Mike went back to his chair and Brittany joined Santana in the dining room. She had enjoyed the relaxing atmosphere she had at the beach with Mike, but now, being back in the mansion, she felt the eeriness return and a chill ran up her spine.

* * *

><p>The next morning, the group gathered around the table as Quinn and Brittany made breakfast for everyone. Mike stayed in the sitting room, completely blank and useless again. Brittany was the only person who still showed him any sympathy, and the only time he showed any emotion was when Brittany was around.<p>

Brittany placed plates in front of everyone, giving her girlfriend a quick kiss on the cheek as she gave Santana a plate. Quinn followed Brittany around the table, scooping scrambled eggs onto the plates as Brittany set them down. When they were finished with the eggs, Brittany came around with hash browns while Quinn brought out a plate of toast.

Kurt gave Quinn an appreciative smile, and whispered his thanks as she passed. Quinn found Kurt's manners refreshing; especially after serving Finn.

While Mike had become blank and useless after losing his love, Finn had taken a completely different route. He was louder and he voiced his opinions as if they were fact at every opportunity. He was bossy and obnoxious, and he was always playing the role of the leader. He forced everyone to do chores he claimed needed to be done, and he glared at anyone who looked his way.

Quinn and Brittany finished serving the food and placed the left over's onto the table. Quinn sat in her seat and filled her plate while Brittany stood near the food, making two different plates.

Everyone watched her curiously as they ate in silence, wondering what the blonde was doing.

When her plates were filled with a hearty amount of food, Brittany picked them up, along with a few napkins and some forks. She smiled brightly at each guest and walked out of the dining room, into the sitting room.

The group listened to the muffled sounds of Brittany asking if Mike wanted someone to sit with him, and were shocked when they heard Mike reply, sounding somewhat cheery.

"Is she really being nice to him? After how lazy and unhelpful he's been?" Finn hissed disbelievingly.

"Mike needs a friend and Brittany is a friendly person. She wouldn't just leave him to mope," Santana reasoned, her voice strong and sure. She had disagreed with Brittany's actions earlier, claiming Mike should learn to help and be a part of the group. But Brittany had argued and made Santana see things from a more loving point of view. Santana didn't necessarily like the way Mike was acting, but she knew Brittany wasn't about to change her mind. And there was no way in hell Santana was going to put down or doubt any of Brittany's views or beliefs.

"That's total bullshit! _I_ do all the work around here, yet _Mike's_ getting his food _fed_ to him," Finn muttered angrily, glaring in the direction of the sitting room.

Blaine and Kurt rolled their eyes at the man, knowing that they've been doing just as much work as Finn. Actually, they were doing more work, seeing as how Finn spent most of his time yelling orders instead of actually working.

The group finished their breakfast in a tense silence, listening to the quiet sounds of Brittany talking happily in the next room.

After the guests finished their breakfasts they worked together to wash the dishes, put away leftover food, and clean the dining room table. When they were finished with their chores, the guests decided to waste time by wandering around the island at random. Mike stayed in the sitting room, and Quinn sat on the porch and read, while Brittany and Santana sat on the cliff side behind the house. Kurt and Blaine sat in the dining room, drinking tea as Finn sat on the rickety wooden dock at the front of the island.

Around noon the guests all collected in the sitting room, talking quietly with one another. Finn was still outside but no one really cared. They preferred when the man wasn't around as his temper was always out of control.

Suddenly the front door swung open and Finn stomped into the sitting room, heedless of the frustrated groan from Santana.

"We need more firewood," Finn announced a little too loudly to the group.

"But we already have plenty; the rooms are all stocked full." Kurt argued cautiously, not wanting to anger Finn any further. "Plus, there's a rather large pile just outside the backdoor."

"Well we need more for my plan to work," Finn replied, gesticulating wildly.

"What plan?" Blaine asked curiously.

"To get off this island. To get home,"

The group shared curiously hopeful looks at Finn's words. Finn gave them a small smile, proud of his own ingenious mind for being the first person to come up with a plan.

"If we get enough firewood, and dig a giant fire pit out near the front of the island, we can create a fire so big they'll be able to see the smoke back at the harbour! The sailors will be concerned, and one of them is bound to come and inspect the source of the smoke," Finn announced hurriedly.

There were happy murmurs of agreement as everyone quickly got behind Finn's idea.

"So are we all on board?" Finn asked loudly, feeling excitement course through his veins.

There was a chorus of cheers as everyone stood, mildly surprise that Finn actually had a good idea.

"Okay, Kurt, you go to the shed and grab the axes," Finn stated staring to Kurt, who nodded his understanding. "Santana, Brittany, go with Kurt and grab a few shovels. Then the three of you go and find the best spot to have the fire. Blaine, Mike, come with me to carry the firewood we already have out to the fire pit,"

Blaine nodded with a smile, while Mike glanced up in surprise at hearing his name. He honestly didn't know when everyone got into the sitting room. He'd been too busy staring at the wall and thinking about Tina.

"What should I do?" Quinn asked, stepping forward to be noticed among the excited whispers of the group.

"Quinn, you take Rachel and-" Finn froze mid-sentence, his smile fading away slowly as he realized his blunder. The guests looked apprehensive as Finn's air of excitement was pushed back by reality. He cleared his throat, coughing awkwardly as he shook his head to clear it. "Quinn, look around the house for paper and matches. Anything that we can burn to start the fire." Finn finished dully, his voice slowly returning to the stern, anger it had been before he came up with his plan.

Quinn nodded, stepping back to let Finn take control again. The atmosphere of the room was tense and awkward and the guests found themselves missing the excitement they had felt only a few seconds ago.

"Let's get to work," Finn announced, motioning for everyone to leave the room. "Come on Mike, let's go,"

Mike looked up at Finn, fixed him a blank stare, and turned back to his wall.

"Mike, get off your ass and do something other than waste space," Finn yelled angrily.

Mike's jaw tensed visibly, as he turned to glare at the taller man. The two glared at each other as the other guests watched from the doorway.

"Get up. You need to stop being such a waste and help," Finn stated angrily.

"My fiancé just died." Mike stated plainly, glowering at Finn.

"Yeah well, my wife just died, but you don't see me being a useless pile of what was once a man," Finn replied in a harshly.

Mike tossed his blanket to the ground angrily, standing to face Finn. He was shorter than Finn by a few inches, but he stood his ground bravely. He inhaled sharply and narrowed his eyes.

"Not everyone can be as heartless as you, Finn," Mike stated blatantly. "I lost the love of my life. She's been my best friend since I was two years old, and losing her so suddenly... So horribly... It hurts. I'm sorry that I'm so useless, but it's kind of hard to live when you have nothing left to live for." Mike explained.

The group in the doorway felt their hearts sink at Mike's words, feeling slightly remorseful at their behaviour toward the lonely man. Brittany had tears in her eyes as she wanting to run forward and pull Mike into a hug, but she knew better than to get between a fight.

Mike pushed past Finn and walked toward the door. He stopped suddenly, turning back to face Finn one last time.

"And frankly Finn, you can go fuck yourself." Mike said, barely above a whisper.

Quinn and Brittany gasped at the curse word as they weren't used to hearing such language. Santana smirked proudly. It was about damn time someone put Finn in his place, and Santana couldn't be happier.

Mike turned on his heel, walking out the front door and slamming it loudly behind him.

The house was filled with a tense silence as Finn stared at the door in shock.

Kurt coughed awkwardly, breaking the silence. "Maybe we should start working," Kurt suggested, as he turned and walked toward the back door.

"Yeah, let's go," Finn agreed quietly, running a hand through his hair.

* * *

><p>The sky was dark and cloudy causing the usually bright afternoon sun to leave only a dull glow over the island. Blaine and Finn worked together to chop up logs to make smaller, more manageable pieces of wood for the fire. The air outside was cool but the physical activity still caused Blaine to work up a sweat. He paused to wipe his forehead dry and catch his breath.<p>

Finn glared at the darker haired man and motioned for Blaine to continue working. Blaine rolled his eyes, but he didn't want to get into an argument. Silently, he returned to his work.

Finn hadn't spoken much since they left the house; Mike's words playing on a loop in his mind. He had been called heartless. He didn't think he was being heartless. Although he wasn't in the state Mike was, he still missed Rachel. He cried himself to sleep last night as he thought of her. And as much as he missed Rachel, he wasn't about to just sit around and wait to join her.

There was a killer in the house and Finn was going to do everything in his power to not be the next victim. He didn't like being called heartless, but he wasn't about to open up to a bunch of strangers. One of which wanted to kill him.

After a few minutes of searching, Kurt and Santana had found the best spot for the fire pit. They decided to place it right in front of the house, ten or fifteen feet from the sandy shore. The two chatted happily as they dug, expressing their hope that Finn's plan would get them home. Kurt and Santana had become close friends since meeting on the island. Although they were suspicious of each other they were still able to have a decent conversation, and Kurt had even given Santana advice on dealing with homophobic hate.

Brittany had retreated back to the house to help Quinn look for matches and any paper they could use for kindling. Brittany had tried multiple times to start a conversation, but Quinn didn't really feel like talking, so she just shrugged off every attempt, answering Brittany's questions with a simple nod or hum of agreement.

Mike had walked around to the back of the house, sitting on the edge of the cliff side, his feet dangling over the edge. He stared out to the ocean and was reminded of Tina. Lately everything had been reminding him of Tina. But this time instead of crying over his lost love, he went back to what Finn had said to him.

Finn thought he was useless. Actually, everyone thought that. Everyone except Brittany, of course. But it still hurt none the less. He wasn't useless, he was just hurt. He couldn't live without Tina, and he honestly didn't know what he would do once he got back home. _If_ he got back home. A small part of him wished the plan would fail so he could stay and wait for his turn to be killed. If it weren't for Brittany, he probably would've done it himself days ago. That way, instead of being trapped on the island and pissing everyone off, he could just go and join his fiancé.

But Brittany had encouraged him to hold on, so that's what he was doing. He would never get over Tina, but maybe one day he would be able to accept her passing and continue with his life.

Maybe one day...

His thoughts of the future were crushed as he thought of his imprisonment on the island. If they got off the island, he would be able to move forward. But if not, he would leave to join Tina. He honestly didn't care all too much one way or the other.

* * *

><p>Brittany and Quinn walked out into the cloudy scenery, arms laden with old newspapers, notebooks, and matches. They joined Santana, who sat next to the whole she had dug with Kurt. It was rather large so as to accompany a huge fire. The men were transporting the wood from where it had been chopped to pile it a few feet from the fire pit.<p>

Santana and Quinn began crumpling up the paper, piling it in the center of the pit.

Finn, Kurt, and Blaine sat next to Brittany, breathing heavily. They were exhausted from carrying all the wood, but they were filled with excitement at the idea of getting off the island.

Quinn lit the match with an excited smile, but dropped it in shock as a loud crack of thunder roared over the island. The match landed in the dirt next to the wood and paper, burning out as it hit the earth.

"No..." Finn whispered worriedly. Everyone held their breath; waiting for what they were sure was to come.

As if on cue, a large sheet of rain fell from the sky, drenching the paper and fire wood.

"No!" Finn shouted, standing quickly, wiping water from his face. "Try and light it, quickly!"

"It's not going to light Finn," Santana replied sadly. "There's too much rain."

"I don't care! Just try," Finn shouted, shaking Quinn's shoulder.

Quinn gave him a fearful look, not used to being handled with such abandon and force. She grabbed another match with shaking hands, striking it along the side of the box. The match didn't react, so she did it again and again. Finn stood up and let out an angry cry.

"Finn, it's okay, we can just try again tomorrow," Quinn said as she stood to reason with Finn, fearful of the man's violent attitude.

Finn rounded on the shorter, blonde woman, grabbing the matches from her hands. "What if I don't make it to tomorrow?" Finn shouted, causing Quinn to jump back. "What if we're all killed off tonight? Then what?"

Quinn whimpered, backing away and joining Brittany, who wrapped an arm around her shoulders. Quinn gave her a thankful look, but turned back to watch Finn fearfully.

"I'll do it myself," Finn yelled irritably, kneeling in the now muddy fire pit, and grabbing a match out of the box.

Finn attempted to light match after match to no avail.

Kurt grabbed Santana's arm, pulling it gently as he nodded toward the mansion. Santana nodded sadly, and together they lead the group back inside.

They slipped off they're wet shoes, and shook as much water from their clothes as they could. One by one, they walked up the stairs to their room to get changed.

Kurt looked to the dining room, seeing an abandoned tea cup on a saucer. He didn't think much of it, figuring Mike made himself a drink before retreating to the sitting room. He turned and stared curiously at Mike's empty chair. He decided Mike was laying in one of the guest rooms and followed Blaine to get changed.

Kurt changed into a fresh set of clothes and towelled off his hair, not bothering to even brush it. He tossed the damp towel onto the floor lazily and walked to his bedroom door. Just before exiting to the hall, Kurt turned to wait for Blaine.

"You go ahead, I'll be down in a minute," Blaine said, grabbing a towel and running it through his hair.

Kurt nodded and walked down the stairs to the dining room. The tea cup was gone, Santana claiming she took it to the kitchen to be cleaned. Brittany passed him a cup and poured him some tea, which he accepted gratefully.

Quinn, Santana, Brittany, and Kurt talked over tea; all wishing Finn would stop trying to get the fire going and just come inside. Kurt kept looking back toward the stairs, expecting Blaine to walk down and join him.

After ten minutes of idle chit chat, the front door opened, revealing a soaking, rain covered Finn. He opened his mouth to speak, when he was interrupted by a loud thud and a sickening crack. Finn spun around quickly and walked back out into the chilly weather.

The four others followed him outside; worried by the noise they heard. They didn't need to walk far to find the broken, twisted body of Mike Chang. Blood was seeping from his forehead and his neck was twisted at a disturbing angle.

Quinn let out a terrified shriek, Santana covering her mouth with her hand as she felt tears sting her eyes. Brittany felt the air catch in her lungs as she ran forward and knelt by Mike's side. She checked his pulse as Finn walked over to his other side, inspecting Mike's body for damage.

After a few seconds, Brittany pulled her hand away from Mike's wrist as tears slid down her face.

"There's no pulse," She said, barely audible over the thunder storm.

Finn felt his body begin to shake, both from the cold and the fear of what had just happened. He grabbed one of Mike's arms, intent on taking his body into the house, when he saw a slip of paper in Mike's cold hand. He pulled it out of Mike's loose grip, showing it to Brittany, before slipping it into his pocket.

Finn motioned for Kurt to help him as he pulled Mike up by the arms, Kurt grabbing the legs. Together they carried the broken body into the house. They walked up the stairs towards the bedrooms, the other guests retreating to the dining room to sit and wait for the men to return.

Kurt and Finn opened the door to the room Tina's body lay, lifeless, and placed Mike's on the bed next to her. Kurt had tears in his eyes as he gazed to the couple. He retreated to the nearest bathroom, returning a moment later with a damp wash cloth.

Finn stood in the door way as he watched Kurt wipe the blood from the gash in Mike's forehead. When he finished wiping Mike's face clean, Kurt straightened out Mike's clothes, tilting Mike's head to an angle that hid the way his neck had broken.

He stood back, passing the dirty cloth to Finn, who tossed it in the laundry hamper.

Kurt gazed to the couple, who could've looked like they were only sleeping had Tina not been so pale. He grabbed Tina's cold arm from where it lay by her body, pulling it closer to Mike. He then grabbed Mike's quickly cooling hand and linked it with Tina's

He sniffed, blinking back tears. The couple was together again.

**And then there were six.**


	5. Chapter 5

Finn and Kurt left Mike's room and walked toward the stairs to go to the dining room. They were just about to retreat down the steps when they heard a door open and close behind them.

Blaine walked out of the bathroom next to his bedroom, wearing fresh clothes, his hair damp and curly. He walked up to the pair, wrapping his arm around his boyfriend's waist to place a quick kiss upon Kurt's cheek.

"What's going on?" Blaine asked, turning to Finn with a small smile.

Finn eyed him suspiciously as he realized Blaine had been the only person who wasn't present at the time of Mike's death.

Kurt quickly retold the last ten minutes to Blaine, who gasped in shock, his smile fading away instantly at the news.

Finn led the way to the dining room, wringing his hands nervously as his new suspicion took over his mind.

Blaine had a quiet conversation with Kurt about everything that happened before and after Mike's death. Kurt asked where Blaine had been and Blaine explained that he decided to take a shower and then attempted to clean the dirt and rain out of their clothes. Kurt accepted the reasons in an instant, but Finn thought it was just a cleverly planned excuse.

Puck had insulted Blaine to his face on their first night there, Tina had been loud and annoying, and Rachel... Finn had to admit, Blaine didn't seem to have much of a problem with Rachel. He figured Rachel must have broken some other rule in the sick twisted game they were forced to play.

The three men entered the dining room and joined the women, who were all visibly shaken. Brittany was crying silently, holding Santana's hand so tight her knuckles were turning white. Santana had her head resting on Brittany's shoulder and was attempting to control her racing heart. Quinn held her tea in shaking hands, shivering from both the cold and the shock of seeing such a brutal death.

The six guests of Indian island sat quietly for a moment, Finn glaring at Blaine the entire time.

"Why weren't you there when Mike fell off the roof?" Finn asked Blaine bluntly.

Blaine was taken aback, raising an eyebrow at Finn's question. "I was taking a shower, and trying to clean mine and Kurt's clothes," Blaine explained calmly. "Why do you want to know?"

"What if Mike didn't fall off the roof at all?" Finn asked, turning to stare at each of the guests in turn. "What if he was pushed?" Finn slowly turned back to stare at Blaine as he spoke.

Blaine's jaw dropped slowly in shock, as he fixed a glare in Finn's direction. "Are you implying that-"

"Yes, yes I am." Finn interrupted.

"No, Blaine wouldn't do anything of the sort," Kurt said hurriedly, attempting to stop the impending argument that would surely turn into a shouting match. Kurt hated when people yelled at each other. He hated hearing the anger and viciousness behind their voices. He always did everything he could to stop fights before they could start.

"Oh? And what makes you so sure?" Finn replied in a surprisingly calm voice.

"Because I know Blaine. He's kind, and caring, and he would never, in a million years, do something that... twisted." Kurt replied, not noticing the grateful smile Blaine gave him.

"Well he was the only person not around when Mike 'fell' so he's suspect number one in my book," Finn replied simply, glaring at Blaine.

Santana and Quinn shared a concerned look before turning to stare apprehensively at Blaine.

Blaine took a deep breath, preparing to defend himself, when Brittany broke the tense silence.

"Finn? What was on that paper you found with Mike?" Brittany squeaked between her quiet sobs.

"I haven't looked at it yet actually," Finn replied, pulling the paper from his pocket.

"Where did you find that?" Quinn asked curiously, eyeing the damp, crumpled paper.

"It was in Mike's hand when he... _fell_" Finn replied, sarcastically spitting out his last word.

Blaine fumed at the man, clenching his hands into fists and shaking his head. He couldn't believe people thought he would actually do something like that.

Finn spread the paper out on the table as he eyed the slightly smeared ink. He cleared his throat and read the note out loud, Kurt reading along silently from over his shoulder.

_Dear Mike,_

_You really are a huge waste of space. Everyone would be better off without you here. I pray every night that you'll be the next victim, that way I won't be forced to care for you much longer._

_-Brittany_

Finn finished reading the note, staring up at the shocked faces of the group. Everyone turned to stare at Brittany, who paled when she heard the note was signed with her name.

Brittany's breath quickened, shaking her head as she gawked at the note disbelievingly.

Finn passed the note to Santana, who read it with Brittany quickly. Brittany ripped the note from Santana's hands suddenly and stood from her seat.

She paced back and forth, reading the note over and over in her head.

"I didn't write this!" Brittany shrieked, staring at the group. "Someone framed me! Why would- who- I... I can't believe this!" Brittany sobbed, throwing the note upon the table and slumping back in an empty chair.

"Why would someone write Mike a note from Brittany?" Quinn asked disbelievingly as she picked the note up and read it herself.

The room was silent for a moment as everyone tried to think of possible answers.

"Maybe... the killer figured, since Mike was in such a state of depression, and Brittany was the only one caring for him, if they gave him a little push he would just... snap," Kurt said quietly.

Everyone mulled over Kurt's words, agreeing that the note was what pushed Mike to jump. Not an actual person. Although they agreed the killer hadn't needed to be with Mike for him to jump, everyone still looked to Blaine a bit uneasily. Everyone except Kurt, of course.

The guests of Indian Island sat in an eerie silence, leaving the note on the table for everyone to see. No one ate that night, opting instead to go straight to bed. They slept fretfully.

The killings were getting more and more gruesome, and they couldn't help but wonder how and when they would be killed.

* * *

><p>The six guests sat at the long mahogany table of the dining room. The room felt a lot emptier than before as they ate their breakfast in silence.<p>

Finn was slightly angered that the paper and fire wood was still damp from the rain that hadn't ended until early this morning. Kurt had tried to calm him down by saying they would just go through with their plan bright and early tomorrow morning. Finn had hated it, but he had no other choice but to wait.

Brittany was keeping a close eye on Quinn, who looked a little shaky and tired. Brittany figured Mike's death had frightened her the most, and Brittany just wanted to comfort the woman and calm the obvious nerves that were causing her to look so exhausted.

Santana had started up a conversation with Kurt, Blaine and Finn giving their two cents whenever they felt necessary. They were all a tired from the previous night's events, but they silently agreed to forget about the danger they were in for a moment in favour of having a nice breakfast.

Brittany listened in on the conversation for a moment before noticing how Quinn just completely blocked it out. She studied the woman for a moment longer before pushing her breakfast away and moving to sit next to Quinn.

"Would you like to go for a walk with me? When... When Mike was depressed, I would take him for walks. They always cheered him up. And you look like you could use some cheering up," Brittany said quietly, not wanting to disturb the other's conversation.

Quinn looked taken aback by the woman's kindness, but smiled none the less, accepting Brittany's request.

The two walked out the front door to stroll around the island, leaving the other four at the table.

Santana looked out the window, watching her girlfriend walk down to the sandy shore with Quinn. She picked up her dishes, moving to pick up Brittany and Quinn's as well. She retreated to the kitchen and placed the dirty plates and forks on a counter before moving to fill the sink with soap and warm water.

Blaine entered the kitchen a few moments later, carrying his, Kurt's and Finn's dirty dishes.

"Do you need a hand?" Blaine asked with a smile, placing the dirty dishes with the small pile next to the sink.

Santana was washing one of the plates in the sink, the long sleeves of her dress rolled up to her elbow, but she froze to stare at Blaine. Santana was a bit wary of the man every since Finn's accusation seemed so accurate the night before.

"I.. I'm fine, thank you," Santana murmured, averting her eyes back to the soapy water, where she began cleaning the plate vigorously.

Blaine's smile faltered at the tone of Santana's voice. He released a breathy sigh, and turned to lean against the counter next to the sink. He stared out the window, unaware of Santana's apprehension at being alone with him.

"I didn't do it, you know. I'm not the killer," Blaine said quietly, not looking at Santana.

Santana froze, staring at the soapy water as she listened to Blaine's carefully chosen words.

"I know you don't believe me... Why would you? The killer could be anyone. But for the record, it could be you, or... Finn, or Brittany, just as much as it could be me. I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time." Blaine stated, keeping his emotion at bay. He hated being isolated under suspicion, but he wasn't about to fly off the handle and cause a scene.

He turned and glanced at Santana, who was now staring intently at the dark sleeve of her dress.

"If you really don't want my help, I'll leave. I'm... I'm sorry for offering, I guess. I should've guessed you would be uncomfortable with it." Blaine said simply, shrugging his shoulders.

He turned to walk out the door, Santana watching him go sadly.

"Blaine, wait," Santana said, grabbing a towel and wiping her hands dry. Blaine stopped in the doorway, waiting for whatever the woman had to say.

"I'm sorry, but... we are trapped here. We are stuck playing this 'game', or whatever, and I'm just... distancing myself. I just... I don't want to put myself in any danger. It's nothing against you, or anyone. I'm just looking out for myself, you know?"

Blaine nodded, giving the woman a sad smile. "Honestly, I think I'd do the same thing if the roles were reversed."

Santana nodded her understanding, returning to her chore as Blaine walked out of the kitchen and back to the dining room.

* * *

><p>Santana, Kurt, Blaine, and Finn sat in the sitting room playing cards.<p>

The back door opened, and closed gently. Santana heard footsteps make their way down the hall and toward the stairs. She watched as Quinn turned the corner, but frowned when Brittany wasn't with her.

"Hey Quinn, where's Brittany?" Santana asked from her seat in the sitting room. The four guests were enjoying an afternoon glass of wine with their card game as they tried to pass the time.

"She's still outside. I think she's sitting out in the trees. She said something about spending some time alone, I think she's still really upset about Mike's passing. She and him were pretty good friends, from what she tells me." Quinn said, slipping off her shoes. "I came in to use the washroom, and change my shoes. These ones are killing me." Quinn finished with a slight grimace at the heels she had decided to wear that day.

Santana nodded at the explanation, returning to her card game. The four guests played their card game for a few minutes before Quinn came and joined the game. The group talked, laughed, and played cards for hours. Their glasses were always full, but they drank slowly as to not get to tipsy.

After one more round, the guests grew tired of the game, deciding to go their own ways. Blaine and Kurt left to the balcony, to sit and talk in the cool summer air. Finn retreated to the shed, grabbing an axe and chopping more wood for the fire he would have tomorrow. Quinn made herself a glass of tea and sat on the far side of the balcony, out of sight of Kurt and Blaine. She had grabbed her book from her room and began reading.

Santana stayed in the sitting room alone, glancing to the door every few seconds and frowning every time Brittany didn't walk through it.

At quarter to five, Santana stood and made her way outside to go get Brittany.

She walked out the front door, inspecting the shore before turning toward the trees. She walked along the edge of the island, calling out Brittany's name every few moments. She stopped to ask Finn if he'd seen her girlfriend, but he just shook his head. Before she knew it, she had walked over every inch of the island, but still saw no sign of Brittany anywhere.

She felt worry pour into the pit of her stomach, but she pushed it down, deciding Brittany was probably just inside the mansion, waiting for her.

Santana took one more, quick glance around the island as she walked back to the front door of the house. The sitting room and dining room were both empty. She quirked an eyebrow curiously and walked up the stairs toward her bedroom.

Her bedroom was in the exact same state it was that morning, and Santana let out a worried, shaky breath. She turned walked down the hall, checking every room for Brittany. She didn't enter the room with corpses, deciding instead to just knock. She didn't want to be in the same room as dead bodies, but she needed to be 100% sure Brittany wasn't in any of them either.

When she finished her thorough search the top floor, she made her way downstairs to check the main floor.

"What's going on?" Kurt asked, a small smile on his lips from a joke Blaine had just told him.

"I can't find Brittany. She wasn't outside, and she's not upstairs." Santana said as she walked into the kitchen. She looked around, opening the pantry, and closing it in a frustrated manner. "Where is she?" Santana asked angrily, more to herself than anyone.

She walked down the hall, turning right and opening the abandonedroom at the end of the hall. She turned on the light, groaning in frustration when the room was as empty the first time they found it.

Switching off the light, Santana slammed the door closed and stomped back down the hall. She passed the hall closet, pausing suddenly and turning back to face it. She eyed it curiously for a moment, before placing her hand on the cold, metal door knob. She turned the door knob easily and pulled the door open.

Her eyes widened at the sight before her and her jaw fell open in shock.

A limp, lifeless Brittany slowly fell forward but Santana caught her before she could fall to the ground. Santana fell to her knees, holding Brittany close to her chest as she whimpered softly. She felt something cold and wet soak her fingers and pulled her hand away, almost screaming when it was drenched in blood. She blinked her eyes rapidly as she sobbed quietly, her tears falling gently onto the cold flesh of Brittany's face.

There was a thick, dark cut across the front of Brittany's neck and a hand shaped bruise over her mouth and cheek. Santana guessed there must have been a struggle, and the killer had kept a hand over Brittany's mouth to keep her quiet while they...

She couldn't think it. Her mind was reeling as she sobbed brokenly, clutching her lost girlfriend to her chest tightly.

Kurt exited the kitchen with Blaine, glancing in the direction of the loud sobs. He dropped his tea to the floor as he covered his mouth in shock. Blaine almost screamed at the amount of blood dripping from Brittany's body.

Santana looked up and stared into Kurt's eyes, and then into Blaine's. She gave them a broken look before squeezing her eyes shut and nuzzling her face into Brittany's hair.

The couple moved forward, Blaine walking around to wrap an arm around Santana's shoulders. Kurt placed a hand on Santana's arm, squeezing in a comforting way as tears flowed down his face.

Santana knew full and well that either of these men could've been the one to do this to Brittany, but she didn't care at the moment. She needed the comfort in her moment of pain. She leaned back into Blaine's arms, burying her face into the crook of his neck while she sobbed brokenly, all the while holding Brittany for dear life.

She let Blaine rub her back and whisper encouraging words into her ears. She let Kurt wipe the blood from her hands and Brittany's neck. She allowed the men to carry Brittany to her room and place her on the bed. She didn't answer any of Finn or Quinn's questions, opting instead to remain under Blaine's warm arm, letting him hold her the way Brittany used to. She cried over her lost love, anger and confusion melting away only to be replaced with pain and loss.

Santana suddenly felt bad for treating Mike the way she did. She kind of felt like sitting in a chair and not moving for days.

Santana had shown Kurt where Brittany kept her necklaces and she let the man place a beautiful, black choker around Brittany's neck. It covered her cut wonderfully; making it seem like Brittany was just asleep.

Santana sobbed loudly, letting Blaine lead her down to the sitting room where the guests sat in a tense silence.

Blaine sat next to Santana, handing her tissue after tissue and holding her tightly to his side.

Kurt offered to get everyone a glass of tea and left the sitting room, walking into the dining room. He froze as he saw the center piece on the table. Holding his breath, he counted the sailor boy figurines.

**And then there were five.**

* * *

><p><em>Reviews are always appreciated. :)<em>


	6. Chapter 6

"Where are the matches?" Finn asked that evening. The group was sitting around the dining room table, drinking tea and mourning over Brittany's death. No one could really place why she had been killed. They figured she must've broken one of the game's 'secret rules'.

Everyone looked to each other curiously, as Finn glared impatiently at the group.

"I don't know," Quinn said quietly, speaking warily. "B-Brittany... put them away. I didn't bother to ask her where she put them,"

Santana cleared her throat and wiped tears from her eyes. She was doing everything she could to stay strong as she pushed all thoughts of Brittany's death to the back of her mind.

Kurt grasped her hand lovingly and turned to face Finn. "Have you checked the drawers in the kitchen?"

"Yeah, I have actually." Finn answered shortly, shaking his head as if the answer was obvious.

"... What about the cabinets in the sitting room?" Blaine asked thoughtfully.

Finn stopped to think for a moment, before turning to walk out of the dining room. "I checked most of them but I might've missed one or two." Finn explained over his shoulder. He walked toward the wall of shelves and cabinets quickly and began throwing open the cabinet doors. He pushed aside old antiques, and dusty books before he finally found the match book hidden at the back of the bottom cabinet.

Grabbing the matches angrily, Finn stomped back into the dining hall.

"What kind of idiot _hides _matches?" Finn snarled, placing the matches with the pile of old newspapers on the table. He had decided the fire wood would be dry enough to burn by morning and he was making sure everything was ready to go.

"Don't..." Santana snarled under her breath. "Don't call Brittany an idiot,"

An uncomfortable silence fell upon the group. Finn looked slightly sheepish as he stared down at his shoes. Santana glared daggers at the taller man as a tear escaped her and slid down her cheek.

"She just wanted to make sure nothing happened to them. I'm sure she would've told us all where they were. If she were here, that is." Santana stated a little louder than before. Another tear fell from her eye, but her face remained fierce and angry.

Finn just nodded awkwardly in reply as he turned on his heel and retreated to his bedroom for the night.

Santana released a frustrated breath and buried her face in her hands. "What an... _ass_," Santana snarled weakly, wiping her eyes and forcing her tears back.

Kurt nodded, rubbing Santana's hand gently. "He really is," he agreed softly.

* * *

><p>The sky dark and dusky over Indian Island as the morning sun had yet to rise. There was no wind and no clouds, meaning the guests had a beautiful, sunny day ahead of them.<p>

Kurt woke worriedly, stretching his arms out into the space on the bed next to him. He opened his eyes slowly, blinking drowsily. He frowned as his hands clutched at cold the sheets instead of a warm boyfriend. He sat up in his bed, wiping the sleep from his eyes as he searched the dark room for Blaine.

The room was cold, the air nipping at Kurt's bare and exposed chest. He leaned over to the side of the bed, picking his shirt up from the ground and slipping it on. Standing from his bed, Kurt changed out of his ratty old pyjama bottoms, and into a warmer pair of pants.

He walked slowly to the closed door of his bedroom, his footsteps echoing through the quiet room. He reached a hand out to grasp at the doorknob but before it could make contact, the door swung open.

Blaine smiled curiously, happy to see Kurt but confused as to why he was awake so early.

"Morning beautiful," Blaine said, wrapping his arms around Kurt's waist and stepping forward to press a loving kiss to Kurt's lips. He kicked the door closed behind him as he nuzzled his nose into Kurt's neck.

Kurt smiled into the touch, raising his arms up to wind a hand into Blaine's hair. He noted how damp Blaine's hair was and he guess Blaine must've just gotten out of the shower. He pulled back after a moment and let his arms fall around Blaine's shoulders.

"Why are you up so early?" Kurt asked, voice rough and quiet from just waking up.

"I... I just couldn't sleep." Blaine explained, looking sheepish as he lowered his head, avoiding eye contact. He let go of Kurt's waist, walking around him toward the closet. He began sorting through his clothes to pick an outfit for the day as Kurt leaned against the wall.

"Why do I feel like you're not telling me the truth?" Kurt asked, his voice stronger now that he was more awake. He noticed how Blaine froze slightly at his question.

"I'm... I'm telling the truth. I would never _ever _lie to you, Kurt. You know that," Blaine stated, staring deeply into Kurt's eyes as he spoke his last few words.

Kurt nodded in understanding, walking to stand behind his boyfriend, wrapping his arms around Blaine's torso. He rested his head on Blaine's shoulder, kissing the soft skin of Blaine's neck.

"But you're not telling me everything," Kurt said quietly, his breath ghosting over Blaine's ear lightly.

Blaine shivered at the feeling as he leaned back into Kurt's warm embrace.

"I just... I had a nightmare, last night. Or rather, this morning. I just... in my dream, you were the next... victim, I guess. And... I couldn't save you. And it was... the worst thing I have ever experienced. After I woke up, I couldn't close my eyes without seeing you, lying in my arms, covered in blood and..." Blaine cut himself off to take a shaky breath.

Kurt felt tears sting his eyes, but he blinked them back as he pulled Blaine tighter against his chest.

"I just didn't want to sleep anymore," Blaine finished, turning his head to face Kurt, his over bright, hazel eyes piercing into Kurt's. "So I took a long bath, cleared my mind, and now I'm going to spend all day in your arms and not let anyone hurt you,"

Kurt smiled brightly, turning his face to connect his lips to Blaine's.

Blaine turned in Kurt's arms, wrapping his arms around Kurt's neck and kissing him desperately.

The couple kissed eagerly, their hands grabbing onto each other tightly as they crashed their bodies together. It was like they were afraid to let go of each other. Like, if they did they would lose each other forever. Blaine lead Kurt toward they're bed, breaking the kiss to bite and suck at Kurt's ear and jaw.

Kurt gasped at the sensation, angling his head to allow Blaine more access to his neck. He felt his knees hit the edge of the bed and opened his eyes as Blaine lowered him slowly onto the unkempt bed below them. Kurt moaned as Blaine licked a long line up his neck and to his chin.

Blaine straddled Kurt's hips, leaning back to stare into his boyfriend's eyes. "I love you so much,"

"I love you too," Kurt replied breathlessly, biting back a moan at heat burning behind Blaine's lust-filled eyes.

Blaine leaned back down to continue his attack on Kurt's neck, nipping and sucking along the flawless, porcelain skin.

Kurt moaned loudly and winded his hand into Blaine's hair. He opened his eyes widely and glanced at the window when an uncomfortable, eerie feeling landed in the pit of his stomach. He pushed Blaine away reluctantly, pointing to the window when Blaine gave him a confused look.

The couple inspected the view outside from their position on the bed. The sky was still dark, which wasn't unusual considering it was still so early. But a soft flickering glow was growing steadily bigger. They shared a concerned look, realizing it wasn't the sun since it was coming from the west and not the east.

They stood, linking hands, and walked to peer out the window better to get a better look at the lawn in front of the mansion.

An enormous fire was burning in the pit Kurt had dug with Santana a few days before. They figured Finn had just started the fire bright and early, but the man was nowhere in sight. Kurt opened the window, leaning out slightly to inspect the grounds further.

He saw something move slightly in the flames. Squinting, he adjusted his vision to try and decipher what the movement was from. He shrieked loudly when he realized what, or rather _who_ was burning in the tall flames.

Kurt quickly turned from the window and grabbed Blaine by the wrist, pulling him out of the room.

Together they ran as fast as their feet could carry them, throwing open the front door and making their way down the sloping lawn. Their socks were soaked through by the dewy grass, but the couple didn't notice.

The movement in the fire became more defined as the couple got closer to the flames. Kurt screamed as he was able to pick out specific details of the horrific scene before him.

Finn was tied to a giant wooden plank, his mouth hidden behind a cloth gag. His eyes were wide and full of fear; the obvious pain he was feeling flowed from the stare he gave the two men. His hair was almost completely singed away and his skin peeling and blistering.

Blaine was breathing heavily, his eyes searching the ground for something that could save the burning man. Kurt screamed loudly in panic and fear, turning to give Blaine a terrified look. Blaine ran past his boyfriend, back toward the house. He found the shed quickly and grabbed the garden house from its place against the shed's outer wall.

Unwinding the hose, he turned the water on and prayed it would be long enough to reach Finn before the man was gone.

Blaine ran back towards the fire, which was almost seven feet tall by this point. Blaine pointed the hose toward the fire and guided the powerful stream of cold water over Finn's burning body.

Finn's movements slowed as he blinked his eyes blearily. Kurt screamed out loudly as Finn's head fell forward suddenly before his movement's stopped entirely. Blaine shuddered as he realized Finn was no longer with them, but that didn't stop him from quenching the last of the flames.

Quinn and Santana ran out into the cold morning air, letting out screams off terror and shock at the sight before them.

Blaine threw the hose to the side and ran forward to help Kurt untie Finn's burned body from the wooden plank. The coals were still warm under their feet, but the men were too focused on getting Finn's body onto the ground carefully to feel the heat.

Finn was soaked through with from the icy water, but his skin was still humming with the heat of the fire.

Blaine and Kurt laid the body on the grass carefully, away from the rapidly cooling fire pit. Kurt was shaken to his core, completely unsure of what they should do. He stared down to Finn's blistered and reddening face and he whimpered at the frightening sight. Kurt untied the gag from Finn's mouth, throwing it to the side and moving his hands back to cradle Finn's face gently.

Blaine pulled his boyfriend's hands off of Finn's burnt face and pulled him into a hug. He held Kurt tightly against his chest and buried his face into the crook of Kurt's neck, breathing in the familiar scent of comfort.

Kurt held Blaine back closely as he broke out into heavy, uncontrollable sobs. He fisted the back of Blaine's shirt into his hands and held on tightly, as if for dear life.

Santana and Quinn ran over to Finn's side, Quinn crying out and turning away from the gruesome sight before her. She hid her face in her hands as she fell onto her knees, shaking her head in disbelief. She cried loudly, not wanting to look at the terrible tragedy only a few feet behind her.

Santana knelt beside the burnt body and laid a hand on Finn's slowly cooling arm. She turned back to see Quinn facing away, her shoulders shaking from her sobs. Santana wiped tears from her eyes with her free hand before grasping Finn's hand carefully.

She cocked her head curiously when she noticed a long strip of duct tape around Finn's hand. Turning the lifeless hand over, she peeled back the burnt tape, gasping when she saw the box of matches. The box was burned through, leaving the matches inside burnt and useless. She knew Finn's death was terrible and she should be mourning over that. But she couldn't help but feel frustrated at seeing the only box of matches on the island destroyed.

No one had been able to think of an alternative escape plan, and now that the matches were useless, the guests were official stranded. Forced to wait until death could claim them.

The sun began to rise over Indian Island, casting a gorgeous orangey glow over the horrendous scene on the lawn. The air was calm and the sky was cloudless. The waves crashed against the shore gracefully. The last flicker of hope in the guest's hearts flickered out.

**And then there were four.**

* * *

><p><em>There's only two more chapters left. You guys. I hope you're enjoying this story! I would love to hear your opinions on it.<em>


	7. Chapter 7

The four guests of Indian Island were sitting tensely in the dining room. It had taken them over an hour to calm down enough to finally take Finn's body to his room. The guests sipped at their tea, except for Quinn who just stared into her cup with a blank and empty look etched upon her face.

The woman had yet to stop shaking since the mornings events. She had a steady stream of tears flowing from her eyes as she cried silently. The images of Finn's burned body were etched into her brain, and every time she closed her eyes she saw Finn's burnt and silently screaming face.

Santana sat by Quinn's side, watching her closely. Santana was worried, both for her own life, but for Quinn's as well. She knew to keep her guard up at all times, and keep herself distanced from others so she wouldn't be the next victim. But Quinn was so shaken; she could do nothing but shake and cry quietly. Santana knew Quinn wouldn't be able to protect herself if she were targeted.

Kurt had his head resting on Blaine's shoulder, his hand holding tightly to Blaine's. Kurt had been standing in front of Finn the entire time Blaine ran off to get the hose. He had been shouting encouraging words to Finn and he promised he would save the burning man. Kurt had kept constant eye contact with Finn. He had seen the life leave the taller man's eyes. He saw every last little detail.

The guests had all disliked Finn's attitude and rude behaviour, but his death hit them hard. Not just because it was so gruesome, but because now there was only four of them left. There was a twenty five percent chance they were sitting next to the murderer. And there was a twenty five percent chance they were next to die.

Santana's mind was riddled with questions that she needed answers to. She had known Finn was dying because she had heard Kurt's screams. But how did Kurt and Blaine get to the man so quickly? The couple were the first to get outside. But how did they know? She sat up straighter and cleared her throat to gain the guest's attention.

"Kurt? Blaine?" Santana began, "How did you get outside so fast? I mean, I never would've known Finn was... dying had it not been for Kurt's screams. I just... I'm curious, is all."

Kurt nodded, looking to Blaine before turning back to answer the question. He quickly explained how Blaine had a nightmare and woke up early, causing Kurt to get out of bed to find him. He told her he saw the light of the fire from his window and they ran down to save him. Well, attempt to save him.

Santana digested the information, nodding her understanding. She had been nicer to Blaine since he had been so loving to her when Brittany died. But this new information revived her old suspicions. Blaine _could_ have just had a nightmare and gotten out of bed. That was entirely possible.

But Santana couldn't help but think that was just a cleverly planned excuse. What if Blaine had gotten up early for... other reasons? He had been the only one awake for a while, according to Kurt's explanation. He would have had a lot of time to drag Finn from his room and kill him.

Santana looked back to the couple, searching their faces for any clues as to what they were thinking. Kurt looked like he would be scarred for life. If Blaine really was the killer Kurt wasn't a part of it. Blaine didn't really look all to shaken up. Sure, his eyes were red from crying, and he was shaking just slightly, but his face was calm. He seemed more relaxed than anyone else at the table.

It all made sense. Blaine had been killing everyone off one by one, but he always kept Kurt by his side. Santana felt sick as she let her knew found thoughts take over her mind.

She glared at the dark haired man, fear building in her gut as she thought of how she had actually trusted him the other day. She had even let him hold her while she was hurting.

She opened her mouth to call Blaine out, when she clamped her mouth closed, deciding against it.

It was too soon. Kurt would never believe her. And she didn't want to scare Quinn any more than she already was.

"I need some air," Santana mumbled, pushing her tea away and standing from her chair. She walked out the front door, and around the house. She made sure to get as far away from the fire pit as possible, sitting on the edge of the cliff at the back of the island. She let her feet dangle over the edge, the ocean splashing against the rocky cliff side far below her.

She made a plan in her head. Later that night, she would corner Blaine and call him out. She would be sure to bring a weapon, something to protect herself with. If she had to she... she would kill the man before he could kill her.

* * *

><p>"I'm going to go talk to her," Kurt stated, leaving Blaine alone with Quinn.<p>

Blaine waved goodbye, sitting back in his chair and turning to face the crying woman. Quinn didn't look up as Kurt left, her shoulders shaking with her quiet sobs.

Kurt gave Quinn a sympathetic look, before walking out the front door and searching the island for Santana.

He found her out back, and walked over slowly to sit next to her.

Santana didn't move or even look away from the horizon as Kurt sat on the grassy cliff side next to her. The pair sat in silence, staring out at the ocean and swinging their legs mindlessly.

It was a beautiful day. The weather was warm, and the wind pretty much nonexistent. The sun was shining brightly in the sky, still hanging pretty low as it was so early.

Kurt turned to face Santana. He studied her features for a moment, taking in the way her brow was furrowed angrily. Her lips looked like they were being forced closed with difficulty. Kurt knew exactly what Santana was thinking, and he knew she wanted to talk about it. He sighed gently, rubbing his neck and turning back to face the glittering ocean.

"He didn't do anything," Kurt finally said, answering the thoughts he knew were filling the Santana's mind.

"How can you be so sure? All signs point to him. Everything fits!" Santana bit back angrily.

"Because I know him. I've been with him for over ten years. He would _never_ do anything like this."

"Kurt, just stop. You need to see the facts. Pretend... pretend he's not Blaine for a moment, okay?"

After a moment, Kurt nodded reluctantly, allowing Santana to begin her obviously thoroughly planned out explanation.

Santana took a deep breath and began speaking. "The very first night here, Noah was insulting you and him. He looked pissed beyond words, and then Noah dies."

"Well, yes, but-"

"No interruptions." Santana snapped, raising a hand to silence Kurt.

Kurt looked a little agitated, but allowed the woman to continue.

"And then Tina and Rachel were insufferable. I think everyone wanted them to go, honestly. And then Mike was no help whatsoever, and Blaine had ended up having to do a lot of work alone. And he was absent when Mike was killed too. Then Brittany..."

Santana's voice trailed off as she thought of Brittany's death. She didn't have any way of connecting Blaine to her death, and he had been so amazing to Santana during that time. She cleared her throat and began again.

"Then he's mysteriously gone when Finn's killed. You can't just expect me to trust him after he was missing during two murders. Come on, Kurt. Open your eyes," Santana finished angrily.

Kurt's lips were pursed in frustration as she thought over Santana's words. "I understand that there are... a few places where it seems Blaine is the murderer. I see that. I really do." Kurt took a deep, shuddering breath and fought back angry tears. "But there's a hell of a lot more evidence that it's not him. Blaine had no problem with Tina. He had no problem with Rachel. He was annoyed with Mike, but he was still sympathetic toward him. And he sure as hell had no problem with Brittany."

Santana felt her chest swell with pain at the mention of Brittany's name. She did her best to forget about her dead girlfriend all together. Most of the time she just pretended the blonde was asleep and would wake up later.

"Honestly, if it weren't for Brittany's death, I would be blaming _you_ completely."

The two fell silent as they mulled over everything that had been said. The mystery hung above their heads as they both formed their own theories.

Kurt's head shot up like a bullet as a thought crossed his mind. He turned to Santana, who looked to have come to the same revelation.

"What about..." Santana began.

"I think it's a real possibility." Kurt stated, fear and shock filling his entire being.

"She... she came here alone. She had no one to lose. And she... do you think...?"

"They're alone in the house right now," Kurt whispered brokenly.

Without hesitation the two jumped to their feet and ran toward the house. Santana held her dress in her hands, making it easier for her feet to move. Kurt's mind was screaming, praying he would make it to the house before anything bad happened.

They threw open the back door. It hit the wall with a loud bang, before slowly falling closed behind them.

The two stood in the hall, straining their ears for any sounds. The mansion was eerily quiet. Kurt held his breath, turning to face Santana, who had the same look of fear that Kurt had.

There was a sudden, muffled thud from upstairs. Kurt jumped, turning on his heel and running toward the stairs. He grabbed the railing and pulled himself upward as he ran as fast as his feet could carry him.

He threw open his bedroom door, crying out in shock as he saw Blaine lying on the ground. Kurt ran forward, scooping Blaine up in his arms.

"Blaine..." Kurt said, his voice thick with tears.

Blaine's eyes opened blearily, swaying in and out of focus. "Kurt..." He replied, voice broken and barely audible. He wrapped his arms around his middle as he let Kurt hold him tightly.

Santana stood in the doorway, her hand clasped over her mouth as tears fell from her eyes.

"Blaine I... hold on, it's going to be okay." Kurt soothed, cupping Blaine's cheek with his hand.

Blaine laughed quietly, shaking his head. "I love you, Kurt. So much... I love you... with everything I am," His voice was barely above a whisper and it cracked with the effort it took him to speak.

Kurt choked on a sob. "I l-love you too Blaine." Kurt replied, squeezing Blaine to his chest tightly as he sobbed.

Blaine raised one of his closed hands slowly, and Kurt stared to him curiously, his vision slightly blurred with tears. Blaine opened his hand slowly, revealing a small soldier boy figurine.

Kurt choked on a sob as he grabbed the figurine and tossed it to the other side of the room. He wrapped his arms around his boyfriend's body and held him closely to his chest.

Kurt felt Blaine hold him back for a moment, whispering one last 'I love you' before he went limp. Kurt cried out Blaine's name, unwilling to let go.

**And then there were three. **


	8. Chapter 8

Santana was breathing heavily and shaking her head as she realized who the killer was. Spurred on by a sudden wave of anger, she turned and ran out of the room. She made her way down the stairs, looking left then right.

"Fabray!" She yelled angrily, seeing Quinn sitting on one of the leather chairs in the sitting room. The blonde was sipping at a steaming cup of tea, looking calm and relaxed.

Quinn looked up at the sound of the Latina's furious voice.

Santana stomped into the room, making sure to keep near the wall furthest from Quinn. She was shaking with anger, but she was still apprehensive and wanted to keep her distance.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" Santana shouted.

"What do you mean?" Quinn asked, her voice was mockingly innocent though the sarcasm still seeped through with every word.

"You know what I mean, you bitch! Why are you doing this? Why did you bring us all here? Why did you make us play this sick, twisted game?" Santana roared, tears stinging the back of her eyes.

"I'm sorry Santana, but I don't have to answer you," Quinn stated, setting her tea on the side table and standing up.

Santana swallowed nervously, watching Quinn's every movement. "Why... Why not?" She asked quietly.

"Because you didn't win,"

Santana eyed the woman curiously, her eyes widening as Quinn pulled a small silver pistol from her pocket. Santana was torn between screaming for mercy and running for her life, but before she could make a decision Quinn raised the gun and fired.

The bullet shot straight through the center of Santana's forehead, causing blood to splatter against the wall behind her. She slammed back against the wall, eyes falling closed as she slowly began to sink to the ground. A sickening, red trail of blood stained the wall as Santana fell.

Quinn smirked, walking past the woman and into the dining room. She plucked one of the sailor boy figurines from the table, and threw it onto the ground. It collided with a loud smash and broke into a million, tiny pieces.

**And then there were two.**


	9. Chapter 9

Kurt heard the unmistakable sound of a gun being fired and froze. He loosened his grip on Blaine slightly and leaned back to stare into the face of his lifeless love. It took every ounce of strength in his body but after a few moments Kurt finally calmed his sobs. He hooked an arm behind Blaine's back, the other gripping under his legs.

Kurt stood carefully and carried Blaine's lifeless body to the bed. He laid down the love of his life, sitting on the bed next to Blaine and brushing a soft curl out of Blaine's face.

There was a soft smash downstairs and Kurt jumped. Brushing stray tears from his eyes, Kurt turned back to Blaine. He leaned in and placed one last kiss to Blaine's lips. "I love you," He whispered softly, caressing Blaine's cheek lightly in his hand.

Kurt took a deep breath and stood, squaring his shoulders and holding his head high. He walked with purpose out of his bedroom and down the stairs to the front hall. He froze when he reached the bottom of the stairs, unsure of which direction he should go. He looked right, into the dining room and then left, into the sitting room.

Kurt felt his heart jump in his chest and he clamped a hand over his mouth to muffle his scream. He ran into the sitting room and kneeled next to Santana's bloody body. He looked around the room frantically, shivers running down his spine as Quinn was nowhere to be found. Standing, Kurt backed away from Santana's body hastily to lean against the opposite wall. His breathing was coming in short, haggard gasps and his heart was pounding loudly in his ears.

Kurt was trapped. There was nowhere to run, and he couldn't help but feel like Quinn would find him sooner than he would find her. Kurt threw his head back against the wall as he attempted to calm the fear pumping through his veins.

Walking out of the sitting room, Kurt entered the hall. He looked into the dining room and let out a sigh of relief when he saw it was empty. He turned to stare down the hall, making sure Quinn wasn't following him as he entered the dining room.

His footsteps echoed throughout the house. Everything was eerily quiet and Kurt couldn't stop the goose bumps from crawling over his skin.

There was a soft crunch under his foot and Kurt jumped away quickly. Looking down, he saw the shattered remains of a glass sailor boy figurine. He shuddered as he raised his eyes to the center piece on the table. There were eight empty places, only two spots had a sailor boy figurine.

Kurt closed his eyes for a moment as he took a deep breath. He outlined a plan in his mind. He would find something to protect himself with, maybe an axe from the shed, and he would sit out on the lawn. Somewhere he would be able to see everything around him. Where no one could sneak up on him.

Exhaling slowly, Kurt opened his eyes. He was about to turn to leave when suddenly-

Quinn Fabray clamped her hand over Kurt's mouth and pushed a needle into his neck with the other. She released the mild tranquilizer into Kurt's body with a smirk.

Kurt struggled against her grip for a moment before he fell back into her hold limply.

He heard quiet, soothing noises in his ear, willing him to fall asleep. He fought against the oncoming sleep with all the strength he could muster, but failed miserable. His eye lids suddenly weighed a thousand pounds and he couldn't keep them open any longer.

His senses faded away and he was left with blackness. Never ending, all consuming, blackness.

* * *

><p>Kurt blinked his eyes open wearily.<p>

The sky was mockingly bright and clear, the sun casting a warm glow over the earth. A small breeze had picked up and Kurt revelled in the cool air blowing across his face. He willed his ears to pick up all the sound around him and he listened to the crashing of waves against the cliff side. Everything was blurry, and for a moment it felt like Kurt was spinning in circles.

Once the world fell still, Kurt sat up slowly.

His brain was pounding loudly in his skull. He squeezed his eyes shut and pressed his palms to his temples. He groaned miserably, feeling like someone had chained him to a wall and pelted him with bricks.

"Oh, you're up,"

Kurt froze, his breath catching in his lungs. He ran his hands through his hair and hung his head, clasping his hands behind his neck. He opened his eyes and looked down to where his feet were dangling over the cliff side. He brought his head up slowly and stared out toward the horizon. He was fully aware of the person sitting next to him, and he had no choice but to accept his upcoming fate.

"Why?" Kurt croaked out, voice cracking from all the crying he had done earlier that day.

"It's a long story," Quinn began, staring out at the horizon.

Kurt turned to face her for a moment, taking in her calm expression. She seemed relatively emotionless, but the woman had an air of accomplishment that sent a shiver down Kurt's spine.

"But... I suppose you deserve to hear it. Congratulations on making in this far," Quinn continued with a smirk.

Kurt cringed at the words, glaring at the glittering ocean before him.

"Planning began a few months ago." Quinn began, smoothing out her dress absently as she spoke. "I picked five lucky contestants, allowed the four that had them to bring their partners, and invited everyone here. I was in control of the game. In fact, I'm still in control. And I made sure everyone followed the rules.

"I guess you'd want to know what those rules were, huh?" Quinn asked with a small laugh that caused Kurt to flinch. "There was really only one rule: don't give me a reason to kill you, and I won't. Noah Puckerman wouldn't stop hitting on me, and it annoyed the hell out of me. So I got rid of him. Tina spilt her tea on me, and was pissing me off to no end. So I followed her to the kitchen and slipped a little something in her tea before she left for bed. I made sure the poison was slow acting so she would die in her sleep.

" Rachel was self centered and obnoxious. I couldn't stand her. So I followed her outside and took care of her. Mike was useless. If he wasn't going to live, he shouldn't have been allowed to survive.

"As for Brittany..." Quinn said, her voice laced with something Kurt would've identified as remorse. "Well, I actually feel a bit sorry for that one. She wasn't a bad person. She was actually quite entertaining. I enjoyed her company immensely. She asked me to draw something in the sand. I didn't know what to draw, so I just wrote my name. She recognized my hand writing immediately. She figured out I was the one who framed her, and quickly realized what I was doing. I had to keep her quiet; otherwise the game would have come to an end. And, well, we couldn't have that."

Quinn paused to chuckle lightly and Kurt looked into the distance with a horrified expression.

"Then there was Finn. He was just... an _ass. _He had the worst attitude I have ever seen. And he was so obsessed with starting that damn fire. So... I helped him out a bit. Who knew his body was such good kindling. Then Blaine... Well, like so many times before, he was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. I followed him to his bedroom and poisoned him.

"Then I shot Santana in the sitting room. She called me a bitch. I found that a bit rude. And then there's you." Quinn said, turning to face Kurt with an impressed smile, "You never gave me a reason to do you any harm, so I didn't. And here we are," Quinn said with a twisted smile, clapping her hands together.

"But... why?" Kurt asked brokenly, shaking from head to toe and fighting back tears.

Quinn sighed, her smile fading away instantly. She turned back to face the horizon, clearing her throat to begin yet another speech.

"About eight months ago... I was diagnosed with cancer. The doctor says its terminal."

Kurt stared at the woman quizzically, waiting fearfully for the rest of her explanation.

"My entire life, I prayed to God. I prayed for health, and love, and safety... When I was fifteen, my dad left. My family was torn apart. I had to learn how to protect myself. My mother was unable to care for me. She had to work three jobs just to pay for our apartment. Yet, I still prayed to God. I prayed for my dad to come back. I prayed for him to love me again. But God didn't do anything."

Quinn's eyes were shining with tears, but she pushed them back as she continued.

"When I was nineteen, I got a job at my dad's business. He didn't acknowledge me. He... He completely ignored me. But I stayed strong, I stayed proud, and I kept _praying__._ I made a nice little living for myself. I kept an eye on my mom, who became an alcoholic shortly after I moved out. My life was shit, but I kept my head high. I always went to church, and I kept my faith in God. Because I knew... Or rather, I _thought_ he would make everything alright again. I thought I was suffering for a reason. I thought my life would turn around.

"But then I got the news from my doctor. I had a year to live. Twelve short months. In twelve months, my shitty life would to come to a close, and God had done nothing but made me suffer. I was so angry. I... I felt betrayed."

Quinn had a steady stream of tears falling from her eyes, as her throat thickened with emotion. But she just coughed lightly, and plowed on through her explanation.

"I was tired of waiting around for God to fix everything. I was tired of feeling powerless. I wanted to be in control. So I decided to take control. Not just of my life, but of other's as well. If God can just step in and make my life shit, only to take it away completely, then why the hell can't I do the same?"

Quinn took a deep breath, rubbing her tears away as she was filled with anger and power.

"_I_ was in control of everyone's lives here. _I_ got to decide when their lives would be taken away. They could pray to God all they wanted, but in the end He had no choice over the matter. All the power rested in _my_ hands. Everyone feared me, even if they didn't know it. They had no idea.

"To them, I was just another guest. I played a character in this house. I thought as a different person, I acted like a different person. But the second the opportunity arrised, Quinn Fabray came to the forefront, and she took control.

"_I_ took control. And this is the one game God has no say in. In this game... I got to be God."

Kurt shivered as Quinn finished with a satisfied smile.

"But congratulations Kurt. Truly, you did a great job. You should be proud."

Kurt frowned as the woman stood, dusting off her dress.

"Second place is something most people would... _die_ for." Quinn said with a quiet chuckle.

Kurt's eyes widened at the woman's words. "What...? But... Second? Didn't I-"

"Oh no, Kurt. You only get second place."

Kurt shivered as he racked his brain, attempting to understand what Quinn was saying. He was the last one playing, shouldn't that mean he won?

"I'm still playing, Kurt. This is _my_ game. And there's no way in hell I'm losing at my own game."

Kurt stared up at the woman above him, shaking from head to toe with fear.

In one, swift movement, Quinn pulled the gun from her pocket, pointed it at Kurt's head, and fired.

The shot rang out over the island, the noise sending a loud echo over the empty grounds. Quinn smirked as she pulled a little sailor boy figurine from her pocket and tossed it onto Kurt's bloody, lifeless body.

**And then there was one.**

* * *

><p><em>One more chapter and this is all over. I hope you enjoyed this is as much as I've enjoyed writing it. Three months of planning and writing went into this fic. I hope it didn't suck. :)<em>


	10. Chapter 10

Quinn stared out at the glittering horizon and breathed in deeply, filling her lungs with fresh, salty sea air. She felt free, careless, and in control. She tossed her gun over the cliff and watched as it bounced off the rocky cliff side and got lost in the sea. She sighed happily as she turned on her heel and walked back to the mansion.

She pushed the front door open and turned into the sitting room, right past the bloody body of Santana Lopez. She opened the liquor cabinet and grabbed a bottle of scotch and a glass. She filled the glass quickly before putting the bottle back in the cabinet.

Grabbing her book from where she left it on the side table, Quinn made her way to the front porch. She sat in one of the wooden chairs, listening to the soft crashing of waves in the distance. She opened her book to the last few pages she had to read and sighed happily.

Quinn spent a peaceful few minutes, finishing her book and sipping her drink.

When she finished reading, she placed her book to the side with a contented smile. Downing the last of her scotch she re-entered the house.

She walked into the dining room and grabbed the last sailor boy figurine. She gazed to it with a satisfied smile, brushing her finger over the cold, glass features.

Slipping the figurine into her pocket, she turned and walked up the stairs. She entered her bedroom and opened her closet, leaning down to pull a large shoe box from the back. She took of the lid carefully and placed it to the side.

Quinn pulled a long, thick rope from the box and placed it on the bed. She then pulled out a signed and sealed envelope. She placed the envelope on the desk of her room and turned back to place the box back in the closet.

Grabbing the rope, she pulled her desk chair to the center of the room. She stepped up, quickly tying the rope into a noose and then tying it skillfully around one of the beams stretching across the ceiling.

She stepped down from the chair and took one last look around her room. She closed her eyes and played out the scene in her head.

Sometime in the next week or two, the sailor who brought them to the island would begin to get suspicious as to why the guests hadn't called in for a ride back to the main land. He would get to the island and be scarred for life from finding such a murderous scene. He would then call the police.

The police would show up, investigate, and eventually enter Quinn's room. They would find her hanging, and, after a moment or two, they would discover the letter on the desk. They would then read through Quinn's carefully written confession, and declaration of success. Quinn didn't regret what she did at all. She wanted to take control of her life, and she wanted other's to feel the same pain God had forced her to live through.

Quinn would go down in history as a legend.

She opened her eyes, breathing deeply and pulled the sailor boy figurine from her pocket. She climbed up onto the chair again and wrapped the noose around her neck. She took one last deep breath, squeezing the glass figurine fondly, and let her eyes fall closed as she began counting.

3.

2.

1.

She kicked the chair out from under her, squeezing the figurine tightly as pain shot through her body. The pain subsided quickly as the air was forced out of her lungs. She didn't fight to get any air back in, instead sucumbing to her oncoming death.

She smirked one last time as she grew weaker and weaker. She blinked her eyes blearily before they fell closed as she swayed lightly back and forth.

Quinn's body grew limp.

Her hand loosened it's grip and the sailor boy fell from her hand.

One last clattering smash rang out through the house before the island was swallowed up by silence.

The waves still crashed. The sun still hung in the sky. The wind remained calm and quiet.

All life left the the island.

**And then there were none.**


End file.
